


Sorcery Resurgent

by enforcer713



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Minor Character Death, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29287905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enforcer713/pseuds/enforcer713
Summary: The plot is simple. After Voldemort's return, a concerned Sirius kidnaps Harry from Durzkaban. In his attempt to take care of Harry, something unforseen happens and Harry has an 'Awakening'. It leads to a series of events that leads to Harry becoming 'Overpowered' by the end of Book 7(eventually). Starts during the summer of 1995 sometime after Voldemort’s return.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Hermione Granger
Comments: 16
Kudos: 64





	1. Concern

**Author's Note:**

> Rating – M. 
> 
> This is a what-if story...
> 
> Harry will have multiple partners, but not over the top number of pairings, a fairly small number though, maybe two or three different girlfriends (not yet decided) and some dating, but the final endgame will be Harry/Hermione. Some plot, some smut, but you know, mainly Harry becomes OP enough to fight Voldemort evenly at the end of Book 7. Not Snape friendly, fair warning. If you want something like that, don’t read this…

**_McGonagall’s Residence (Hogsmeade)-_ **

The dining room was neatly arranged and immaculate. The tea remained untouched, neither occupants were concerned with it.

After almost a quarter of an hour of arguing, an irate Minerva McGonagall was trying a pointless attempt to reason with the short-tempered godfather of Harry James Potter. She had allowed the man to enter her premises after having heard the truth of Sirius Black from Albus over a year ago.

“Things have changed, Minerva!”

The transfiguration professor shook her head, “And how exactly do you hope to change anything, Sirius? You’ve barely met the boy yourself.”

“I can give him a home!”

“He has a home, Sirius!”

Sirius stood up and closed in dangerously, “Look me in the eye and tell me that it’s in Harry’s best interest to stay with those horrible people. Look me in the eye and convince me.” Sirius paused, but Minerva stood her ground without a word, “Does Albus want Harry staying with Lily’s sister because it’s in _his_ best interest or Harry’s?”

“You’re questioning Albus’s wisdom now? How can you be so insensitive? Albus is the reason you’re still lurking about freely and not imprisoned in Azkaban.” Minerva hit the point right on the core of the subject.

Sirius’s eyes narrowed at that, “Minerva, make no mistake. I am grateful for what Albus has done for me, but this is not about me, this is about Harry. A boy I held in my arms outside the birthing chamber, weighing a little over half a stone…,” Sirius’s voice broke, “…while James wept over Lily’s fragile health. Not a day goes by, I don’t feel regret. For my recklessness…, my vengeance. While Harry was forced to live with those awful muggles.”

Minerva’s expression fell, seeing Sirius’s eye glisten with unshed tears, “Harry’s safe there, Sirius. You showing up at the door will not change anything, he will remain safe there. Albus knows what he is doing.”

“What’s the point of him being safe from Death Eaters if he suffers every moment he stays there, Minerva?!”

The aged transfiguration professor had no answer for that, while Sirius continued, “He’s a boy, who has witnessed the death of a friend and the resurrection of the monster who murdered his parents, while helpless to prevent both, and forced to flee.”

“Try to imagine his current state of mind. Do you believe it's wise that keeping him in isolation is the best thing we can do for him now?!”

Finally, after a few tense moments of palpable silence, the professor crumbled almost inaudibly, “I’ve argued the same matter with Albus at length. I do not have any say in it. That being said, I share your concerns as well. I’m choosing to trust in Albus’s wisdom, and I think you should as well.”

“You know I cannot do that. Harry’s my godson, he is supposed to be my responsibility. I owe James and Lily more than that. I have to be there for him when he needs help…”

Minerva warned, “Think this through, Sirius. Your reckless actions will not help things. Things are already a tinderbox. The Ministry is framing you for all of you-know-who’s atrocities, Albus has been asked to step down from the Wizengamot as Chief Warlock. There are talks of Albus’s Order of Merlin being removed as well. And they are denying that you-know-who is back, and smearing Potter’s name along with Albus’s.”

“You cannot expect me to remain calm and do nothing?” Sirius almost shouted.

“No… But I can ask you not to add more fuel to the fire. Ask yourself this, are you doing this for Harry’s sake or to ease your guilt?”

“Don’t you dare, Minerva! Don’t you dare...” Sirius warned tersely.

Sirius took a deep breath and deflated visibly, but anger was very much evident in his tense form. With that, the heir of House Black turned around and strode away to the door before Minerva could stop the man from leaving.

* * *

**_Dursley Residence (Privet Drive)-_ **

‘Thud…thud…thud…’

‘Thud…thud…thud…’

“Blimey! Wait for a bloody moment, will you?” Harry yelled out as he slowly went towards the door and opened the latch and swung open the door.

But what he saw was the last thing he had expected. The person banging on his door was not his whale of a cousin, or the walrus of an uncle or his hateful aunt, but rather his loving godfather, “Sirius?” He gasped.

He quickly swung the door fully open and demanded in panic, “What’re you doing here?”

Sirius whipped out his wand and pushed him aside before entering the room, and then gave a swirl with his wand hand. All the things in the room began flying, shifting, and packing. After a few moments in an amazed daze, it was done.

“You’re coming with me.” Sirius locked eyes with him and then stated sternly.

“I am?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Yes.”

Harry’s brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed sharply. He fished out his wand and clumsily pointed it at Sirius, “Prove to me that you’re Sirius.”

Harry remembered Barty Crouch Jr very well, the man who had disguised himself as Alastor Moody and deceived the entire Hogwarts staff including Dumbledore for an entire year, only to procure him for Voldemort. What if this was something similar? He had to be sure.

Sirius gave a nod of understanding, “Very well.”

He thought for a moment. He needed to ask something only Sirius would know, “What did Sirius gift Ron with after the loss of Scabbers?”

“I gave Weasley a Scops Owl. I know you mentioned its name once, but I don’t remember its bloody name. And you couldn’t come up with a better question than that?” Sirius answered and asked irately, “Now can we go?”

Harry blushed a little, but didn’t yet lower his wand, he had one more question, “What curse did Sirius suggest that I use against the Dragon in the tournament?”

“Better.” Sirius said a little proudly, “I remember almost suggesting the Conjunctivitis Curse.”

At this Harry lowered his hand, “It’s you.” He whispered, “It’s really you.” With that, he jumped into his godfather’s loving embrace.

“Oh, I missed you too, pup.” Sirius breathed, but quickly withdrew, “…but, we do not have much time.”

“Get your things, we have to hurry.”

“Where are we going?” Harry picked up all the things and hurried behind Sirius who was carrying a few pieces of luggage as well.

As they reached down the stairs, he looked into the living room to see, Dudley crying into his aunt’s chest as she hugged him dearly. While Vernon looked ashen as if he had seen a bloody ghost. It took him a moment to realise that Sirius had given them something to remember him by. He smiled in triumph as they exited the door.

* * *

**_Kettlelock Estate (Seat of House Potter)-_ **

Harry landed on his knees and he tried to empty the contents of his stomach, but couldn’t since he hadn’t eaten anything since morning. His entire body felt like it was pushed through a tiny tube. As if he was suddenly claustrophobic, he gasped for air and breathed free.

“It happens to everyone the first time, pup.” Sirius’s words did little to ease him.

Harry coughed a few more times before he got back on his feet unsteadily, “What was that?”

“That…” Sirius answered, “…is called an apparition.”

“A-what?”

“All in good time, pup. We have bigger things to worry about.” Sirius stated with utmost seriousness.

“What is this place?” Harry asked confused.

As he peered around him, he realised that they were standing in the middle of a large garden. All sorts of magical trees, plants, and flowers all around him. He saw a water fountain on his right, with the statue of a swan at the centre of it. There was a sundial in the middle of the flowery pastures, and on it was a large grey Kneazle lying on its back enjoying the sun.

“We are standing on the grounds of the Kettlelock Estate in Oxford. House Potter’s ancestral home. This used to be your grandparents’ home.” Sirius replied and for some reason, his heart clenched tightly.

Sirius gave a wave and all of his belongings levitated, as he wrapped an arm around his godson’s shoulder and led him towards the door.

“Why are we here?” He found himself asking absentmindedly.

“Why else?” Sirius queried back, “To live. With whatever freedom we have left.”

Harry nodded at his godfather and gave a weak grin while his eyes glistened. Hope, at long last, he had hope.

“Only a Potter can enter the house. I’m not a Potter. It must be you that opens the door.” Sirius explained briefly as he pointed at the doorknob.

Harry tentatively reached for the knob, stopped mere inches before it, and then he reached for it. The moment his hand grasped the knob, they heard three distinct clicks from behind the door. And then the door swung open abruptly.

He glanced at Sirius, who grinned at him warmly, “Welcome home, pup.”

* * *


	2. Check-up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter, JKR does…  
> I’ve got nothing. Let’s go into the story…

**_Kettlelock Estate-_ **

Harry was seated with Sirius and Andromeda in the kitchen. Listening to Andromeda report her findings to Sirius. He felt embarrassed. Aunt Andromeda, which is what she had asked him to call her as, was a fully trained healer. She had seen all of his scars and bruises and made a list of all the things. He was suddenly feeling very embarrassed and equally vulnerable in her presence.

Andromeda Tonks was Andromeda Black before her marriage to Ted Tonks, a muggle-born wizard. According to Sirius, she was disowned by Sirius’s mother after her marriage to Ted. Sirius had apparently brought her back into the family and reinstated her tie to the Black Family.

Sirius was now Lord Sirius Black; as the eldest son of Orion and Walburga Black, he had the best claim to the lordship and the ring he now wore in his right ring finger signified his authority as the Lord of the House. Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy were no longer part of the Black family, in order to secure Andromeda’s daughter Nymphadora’s claim to the seat of House Black, in case of Sirius’s untimely death.

More surprising was the fact that both Andromeda and Sirius were, in fact, his distant relatives. According to his godfather, Sirius’s great-aunt Dorea Black was also the aunt of his grandfather Fleamont Potter, which made his father and Sirius distant cousins, which made him Sirius’s nephew.

“Is there anything particularly alarming?” Sirius asked her.

“Yes.”

Now that had his full attention, “Harry is perfectly healthy, albeit a wee bit underweight, but nothing a good diet and a few potions can’t fix.” Andromeda said in a way to ease Sirius, a little, “Although, the alarming thing is that there are traces a poison present in his organs.”

Sirius clenched his fists tight, “Poison? What kind of of Poison?” Sirius’s mind wandered to the muggles, Lily’s sister and her family, were they the ones that poisoned Harry? He wondered idly.

“Magical.” Andromeda replied in confirmation, “I do not know what kind of poison it is, but I can tell you that it is magical in nature and it is in fact a particularly potent one.”

Sirius was now fuming. Magical in nature meant that it hardly could be the Dursleys that are responsible. Was it, Voldemort’s doing, or perhaps one of his loyal Death Eaters? What was Dumbledore doing? The headmaster was supposed to be protecting his godson. He mused furiously.

“Aunt Andromeda, if the poison is potent? How come I haven’t felt any of the effects?” Harry asked curiously.

“And that’s the baffling part. Dearie, there is an antidote in your system that is constantly fighting the poison. And hence why you are reasonably healthy and in no immediate danger.”

Sirius asked in confusion, “An antidote?”

After a brief moment’s pause, Sirius continued, “If the poison has been noticed and the antidote has been administered, shouldn’t the poison fade away on its own?”

“Normally, it should. But in this case, for some reason the poison isn’t fading away, and neither is the antidote. And hence, the reason for my alarm. He is in no danger, but I would recommend treating this in case it becomes a problem later on.” Aunt Andromeda reasoned calmly.

Deafening silence remained in the room for a few minutes before Sirius asked, “What can we do, to…treat it?”

“There is a simple procedure. If we remove the majority of the poison from Harry’s organs, then the antidote would fight the rest and suppress its vile magic. And the poison would fade away, naturally, and so will the antidote. This is the best option. A rather simple procedure with very little risk, and the benefits being Harry’s immunity to the said poison.” Andromeda summarised the option.

“Do it.” Sirius’s response was immediate.

Aunt Andromeda nodded in agreement, “I will. But before we go into that, we need to know what kind of poison it is, when he was poisoned, what kind of antidote was administered, what kind of dosage was given. And why the poison isn’t fading away? I can detect the presence of the substances in the examination spells, but more than that, I cannot surmise much from it.”

Andromeda paused for a moment before turning to him and asking, “Harry, do you remember being poisoned at any point recently?”

“Um…no. Not recently, at least. Two years ago, I was bitten by the Basilisk and I was…”

“What Basilisk?!” Both Sirius and Andromeda asked in unison.

That’s when he remembered that he told no one about what happened in the Chamber of Secrets, the only one who knew anything about the incident in the Chamber of Secrets was Ginny and Ron, but Ron had been stuck watching Lockhart and Ginny was unconscious the whole time. Dumbledore and whoever the headmaster divulged it to were the only ones apart from him who knew everything.

“Uh…uh…in the Chamber of Secrets, there was this monster, it was a Basilisk. When I fought it, one of its fangs pierced my arm. That’s how I was poisoned. But Fawkes healed me right after.” He explained it as briefly as possible.

Both Sirius and Andromeda looked at him wide-eyed, as if he was mad, it took them a few moments to regain their thoughts. Once they did, they both shared a glance, before turning to him again. Andromeda closed in on him and spoke sickeningly sweetly, “Harry, dearie, I want you to tell me everything that happened in school that year. And I mean everything.” It was not a request, he realised from her motherly yet terrifying tone.

And so, the tale began, it took three-quarters of an hour to explain their run-in with Malfoy, Ginny’s possession by the diary, the attacks at school, but by the time he was done, Sirius looked furious and Andromeda looked pale. He noticed that Sirius looked particularly mad when he mentioned that Lucius Malfoy had almost cursed him for tricking the man into releasing Dobby from servitude.

Before Sirius could blow up in anger, Andromeda who regained her senses decided to interject in a placating tone, “Two years. Good lord. Well, that does explain my doubts. Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears, that explains the abnormality. Both the venom and the tears are magical in nature, and the Phoenix’s tears is not exactly an antidote, but it does have some spectacular healing properties. It must be potent enough to keep the venom at bay, but not enough to remove it entirely.”

Sirius took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his hands. Sirius then looked at aunt Andromeda and asked, “Can you remove the Basilisk venom from Harry’s body?”

“I can. It’s simple enough now that I know the nature of the poison. Any poison if neutralised would simply be washed out of the system given enough time. The fact that the venom has remained in Harry’s body for over two years is a true testament of its potency. In any case, I will conduct a test to make sure that it is in fact the venom and then remove it, most of it at least. The magic in the phoenix’s tears will be automatically flushed out of the body after we remove the venom, and whatever remains of it is neutralised.” Andromeda replied confidently.

“Do it.”

* * *

_Three Days Later…_

Harry was fast asleep on the bed, wearing nothing but his undergarments. Andromeda gave a wave of her wand and the sheets draped itself around the sleeping boy, while she disposed and packed of all the potions and her instruments she needed for the procedure.

‘Knock…knock…’

“Come in.” The healer called out.

The door opened as Sirius poked his head in, and queried, “How did it go?”

Andromeda turned towards the concerned godfather and was surprised to see another man behind Sirius. It was Remus, one of Sirius’s closest friends, she hadn’t seen the man in a while, but she was glad to see him regardless.

Andromeda picked a small vial of colourless liquid and tossed it towards Sirius, who caught it in his hand and peered closely, “Is this it?”

“Yes. That’s the venom. That’s most of it.”

Sirius showed it to Remus who took it in his hand and examined it, before opening the cork and sniffing the smell. Sirius meanwhile entered the room and watched his sleeping godson on the bed.

“Will he be alright?”

The witch turned to her cousin and explained, “He should be. Now that most of the venom is extracted out of his body, the phoenix’s tears will neutralise the rest and it will fade away in a few hours.”

Sirius nodded in understanding, “How long will he be asleep?”

“Until the magic within him steadies and he recovers.”

The animagi wizard then turned to his cousin, “Thank you for doing this. I mean, you didn’t have to, and yet you did.”

Andromeda sighed with a small smile, “We’re family Sirius. Besides, I like your godson, he’s a sweet boy. I half-expected Harry Potter to be a conceited little menace riding along on his fame and fortune. I was genuinely surprised.”

“Although, he may look like the spitting image of James, he’s more Lily than James.” Sirius chuckled.

“Still... Thank you.”

“You have my thanks as well, Mrs Tonks.” Remus walked up to them and spoke softly.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s chapter two. I wanted to write a normal story first before going crazy with OP Harry. No suddenly claiming lordship over half a dozen houses. No suddenly becoming friends with goblins (goblins are cunning and they don't like wizards, deal with it). No suddenly becoming imbued with over a dozen different magical abilities.  
> That being said. Big changes are coming up in the next chapter. Stay tuned…


	3. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter, JKR does…  
> I’ve don’t wanna spoil the fun just yet. Let’s just not waste time and go into the chapter…

**_Kettlelock Estate-_ **

“What do you mean he started running in the hallways firing spells?” Andromeda asked trying to understand what it was that her cousin was trying to explain.

“I mean, he woke up screaming and before we could climb up to check on him, he started running around the hallways trying to set the house on fire?” Remus interrupted bluntly.

Andromeda furrowed her brows in question, “Why?”

“That’s what we would like to know…” The former DADA professor said sharply.

“Moony, not now.” Sirius chastised his best friend and turned to his cousin, “I think you should just talk to Harry.”

The healer glared at Remus for a moment, before she gave Sirius a stare finally agreeing with a nod, “I think that’s the best idea…” Andromeda muttered and proceeded up the stairs to Harry’s room, with the two wizards right on her tail.

The healer walked into the room, while Sirius and Remus stood guard at the doorway, staring at the catatonic boy sitting on the bed and staring into space.

“Harry…” Her words made him turn to her, “Dearie, how are you feeling?”

Harry just stared at the witch for a long moment and slowly spaced out. Andromeda placed a hand on his shoulder, once again breaking him out of his musing, “Uh?”

“Are you feeling alright, Harry?” Andromeda placed the back of her hand on his forehead to check if he was having a fever. Harry once again stared at her and then promptly spaced out.

Andromeda quickly conjured a stool beside the bed and she took a seat beside Harry.

Seeing that her efforts to gain his attention were in vain, she decided to approach this differently. As a trained healer, she always had potions in stock with her at all times. She fished out a pouch from her hip and then loosened the knot and lunged her hand into the pound to wandlessly summon out a circular vial containing _Calming Draught_. She uncorked the top and she slowly held it to Harry’s lips. It took him a moment, but he finally sipped at the blue coloured potion. Within a few moments of ingesting it, Harry slumped into the headboard of the bed and began breathing normally.

She waited a few minutes to let him settle his thoughts before she called softly, “Harry…”

This time he turned to her and she saw his eyes betray emotion, “Tell me what’s bothering you, dear.”

“I know.” He said simply, his tone still distracted and his intent reserved.

“You…know?” She probed softly.

“I know my past.” He said in conviction as if that explained it all.

“You know what…, about your past?” She probed with a wee bit more curiosity.

“My past…” He said, but continued after a brief pause, “I can remember my lives before.”

Andromeda Tonks had expected many things, but this was not remotely what she had hoped to hear. Perhaps this was just a nightmare that he had, she surmised logically. Harry was clearly still in a state of shock, he probably needed peace, calm and rest to collect himself.

“I think, you should get some sleep, dearie.” She tucked the teen in bed as she used to do for her daughter as a child and waited until he closed his eyes to try and rest his eyes. She whipped out her wand with dexterity and zigzagged with practised ease, non-verbally casting a sleeping charm on Harry. The moment Harry began snoring, she stood up and cast a _diagnostic charm_ and the results were mundane. It must have been a nightmare, she concluded. With that, she walked out of the room, leaving the sleeping boy behind.

* * *

Two days later…

 _‘What if he’s right?’_ This was the question that had turned the course of their discussion and led them all here to this point. This was not something they could ignore out of hand.

Remus, Sirius and Andromeda were seated at the table in the kitchen, with all their research lying about scattered on the table. Last night, Harry had recovered enough from his shock to talk normally, they had gathered enough details from him to get a clearer picture of his ailment before letting him rest.

“What do we know so far?” Sirius asked as he placed the files of parchment he had been reading on the table.

Remus glanced at the other occupants and replied, “Harry mentioned three names. Antonius Sevenhill, Septimus Selwyn and Archie Lowden.”

“I met with a friend of mine in London, his wife works in the Public Record Office. I called in a favour. And this is what she found…” Remus pointed at the brown file of paper among the scattered documents, “Archie Lowden, born to John and Mary Lowden on March 3rd 1894, was a war veteran who served in the Royal Garrison Artillery during the First World War. He lost his right arm in the Battle of Arras in 1917 and subsequently retired from service. He died in a veterans home located in Sheffield on January 2nd 1979.”

Remus finished gaining nods from Sirius and Andromeda. Andromeda quickly picked one of the parchments and glanced it over before beginning with her explanation, “For the record, you are not going to like this. I went to the Ministry and had Ted pull files from the archives.”

“Antonius Sevenhill was born Antonius Gaunt. Born December 11th 1767\. He was a known necromancer and dark wizard. Obsessed with Resurrection Magic, and a known practitioner of the Forbidden Dark Arts. He was arrested by the DMLE’s Hitwizards in August 1830, and imprisoned in Azkaban. The Wizengamot sentenced the man to a ‘Walk into the Veil’ after a full trial. He was ‘walked’ into the Veil on December 23rd 1831.” Andromeda finished and room and all the occupants remained silent, only their faint breaths to be heard.

“Sirius…” Andromeda broke her cousin’s train of thought.

“I Floo-ed to our ancestral home in Islington.” Sirius began but was cut short by Andromeda.

“Grimmauld Place?” She asked in shock, knowing that Sirius would never willingly set foot in that place unless he believed it was necessary.

Sirius gave a nod of his head, his face grim, his tone emotionless, “The library there has one of the most extensive collections in all of England. I found this.” Sirius parted some of the parchments on the table and fished out a large brown tome beneath it.

“This pure-blood family registry goes back centuries. On page 1096…” Sirius said as he flipped through the pages, and when he came to the page, he pointed to a name in the tree, “…you will find Septimus Selwyn III. Harry’s account fits. Born July 20th 1833\. Died August 6th 1892.”

The heavy silence that prevailed in the room following Sirius’s findings was one of deep contemplation. Remus was the first one to break the silence.

“What do we gather from this? So, these people indeed existed as Harry claims. But that does not mean that Harry is the latest in the long line of incarnates.” Remus tried to reason for their sensibilities.

“And what if he is? What if what Harry says is true?” Sirius argued back.

“We have no proof of that, Pad!” Remus snapped right back.

Sirius glared, “Of course we do. Our proof is sleeping upstairs.”

Remus shook his head in disagreement, “It could have been just a nightmare. Or perhaps a vision. Maybe Harry has some dormant abilities of the ‘Sight’. That could explain…”

Remus was interrupted by Andromeda, “Shush…, both of you!”

As both friends stared at the healer, she asked, “Do you remember the ancient runic calendar? We don’t use it anymore in any of our magical syllabi, because it's largely impractical. But we do learn of it in Advanced Runology.”

Both Sirius and Remus had learned Runology in school and had taken their NEWTs, hence they both nodded in understanding. Andromeda seeing their affirmation asked, “Do you remember the duration of one standard year in those calendars?”

“Nineteen months.” Both the wizards said in unison.

Remus amended the answer a moment later, “Almost, nineteen months. It measures not seasons or days or months, but the one full cycle of magic that circles the world within.”

“Yes.” Andromeda smiled at the duo. She put her quill down and picked the parchment she had been writing in and placed it in front of the two.

“Check the interval of one’s death and the other’s birth. Died December 1831, the next one is born 19 months later, in July 1833.” She placed her finger on the next death and birth cycle, “Died August 1892, and the next is born March 1894.”

She then placed her finger on Harry’s parchment, “Harry was born July 31st 1980\. And the one before him, the man named Archie, the man died almost 19 months before Harry’s birth. On January 1979.” Remus looked wide-eyed, while Sirius looked in deep thought, calculating the months in his mind.

She shifted in her seat and stated confidently, “I think it’s true. We’re looking at a death and rebirth cycle. And Harry _is_ the latest in the line of reincarnations.”

Remus’s eyes clouded again at the healer’s words, “We shouldn’t jump to any conclusions prematurely.”

Andromeda agreed to that immediately, “I agree.”

Sirius looked up and then he glanced at the others before saying, “It fits. Almost nineteen months between each birth.”

The animagi wizard paused, “ _If_ these people were indeed his past lives. _If_ he is, in fact, remembering them. What caused him to remember his past lives now? And why these people? And there is nothing overly special about any of his previous lives. Apart from this Dark wizard Antonius, the rest are normal. This Septimus Selwyn was practically a nobody in the family, no heirs, no achievements of any sort, worked in an Owl Post Office, went insane in a reasonable middle age and died in his sleep. And this Archie fellow was a muggle, he was a soldier, but still without any magical prowess.”

Neither Andromeda nor Remus had any theories as to why Harry had suddenly remembered memories of his previous lives if they were indeed his previous lives. Sirius too was at a loss of what to conclude of this.

“I think, I know how.” A voice broke them all out of their stupor.

They all turned to see Harry walking into the kitchen. Harry lazily went to the counter, straight to the kettle and poured himself a cup, fetching a teabag from the cupboard and dipping it to his taste.

“Pup, you…know how this…happened?”

“Yes,” Harry said and then took a sip.

“Phoenix tears. Has healing properties.” He took a seat in one of the empty chairs.

“The magic from the phoenix tears present in my body. While not potent enough to negate a centuries-old Basilisk’s venom, but more than enough to keep it in check. The moment aunt Andromeda removed the remaining venom from me. The magic in the tears must have begun healing whatever it could heal. And healing as in not just the physical, it includes even the spirit within.”

Magic bloomed in the soul, not in body. A wizard's or witch's body was merely an 'ideal conduit' for magic to flow, the magic however manifested in the spirit, hence why frail old wizards or witches at death's door without an ounce of strength in their body could still perform powerful feats of magic. The foul magic present in the Basilisk’s venom had been strong enough to destroy a piece of a soul, and the healing magic in the Phoenix's tears were strong enough to heal a soul. He didn’t convey that to them, if his theory was right, there would be significant turmoil. But before he presented them his suspicions, he needed proof to confirm it, for which he needed time.

“That doesn’t explain why you remembered the past.” Remus added curiously.

Harry stared out into space and then averted his eyes taking a distracted sip of the tea, “Have you even noticed...? When someone were to walk a little close behind us, we can feel their presence without turning to look. When someone spies on us from our blind spot, we can tell that we’re being watched. This ability to sense the world is possible because of a hidden eye in our soul. That is the inner eye. It exists within everyone. A bridge of sort that connects the soul of a person to the magic present in the world.” Harry paused to take another large sip of the tea, “Seers are _born_ with the ability to glimpse the world through this hidden eye, they simply lack the control to open it at will. Mine, however…, is now fully open.”

Andromeda, Remus and Sirius looked wide-eyed at the boy in front of them, who was jitterily sipping at the tea, trying to keep calm by force, “The phoenix tears must have pried open that hidden eye within, for reasons I can scarcely fathom.” Harry’s way of speech was different as well, all three adults noticed.

“How…d-do you know this?” Andromeda stuttered.

Harry stared again into space, and replied without taking his eyes off, “I know a lot, now.”

Sirius, Remus and Andromeda began muttering to each other, or he thought they were muttering. He tuned them out because his head was preoccupied and the tea wasn’t helping his mood in the least.

Harry had no idea how long he sat there idly not listening to anything around him, but suddenly he noticed Remus nodding to Sirius and disappearing through the green flames of the Floo. Andromeda left moments later, and Sirius looked at him inquisitively.

“Pup, do you need anything? Maybe lunch, or something to drink…?” Sirius was concerned at his godson’s detachment to life.

“No.”

Sirius walked closer, taking the seat next to him, “I cannot imagine how you must be feeling, but try not to bottle it up. Sharing often helps…, or so I’ve heard.” Sirius muttered the last part.

“I don’t know what to feel. My mind feels ‘expanded’, but oddly, still very full.” Harry replied with whatever interest he can muster.

“Would taking your mind off things, help?” Sirius asked curiously.

“Perhaps.”

“I think, I can help you with that.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, this is my concept, it’s not very original I know, but still, I think you’ll like it. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I wish to expand on this idea to some ridiculous proportions, be warned.


	4. Vacation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter, JKR does…  
> I’ve don’t wanna spoil the fun just yet. Let’s just not waste time and go into the chapter…  
> Feedbacks are much appreciated.

* * *

**_Delectat (France)-_ **

Harry was lying in the sun half-naked, enjoying the heat on his skin. They were in Delectat, which means ‘Delights’ in Latin. It was a beautiful beach in France exclusively for the magical community.

He dared not to open his eyes for the sake of his sanity. Sirius had no shame whatsoever; his animagi godfather was disguised and was fully using his freedom to his lecherous needs.

Sirius had somehow charmed a beautiful, buxom, blonde French witch and was now snogging her without a care in the world (he even caught a glimpse of their tongues), all the while indecently groping her without a care in the world. He didn’t need the mental image of his pseudo father figure doing ‘unthinkable’ things to some random stranger. It didn’t help that since Sirius was groomed for Lordship by his parents at a young age, he was taught several languages, which included French, which the man spoke fluently. The worst part of it was, aunt Andromeda was worse, she and her husband were supposed to keep Sirius in check, instead, she was wearing a very skimpy two-piece that left very little to imagination all in order to entice her husband. The Tonks couple had disappeared off somewhere a while ago, and he didn’t want to guess or picture what they were doing either.

Sirius had invited Remus and the Tonks to join them on their trip out of the country. Remus had chosen not to come, instead deciding to refurbish the Apothecary in Carkitt Market, which Sirius and Remus had bought last week. Andromeda promised him some age-appropriate company in the form of her daughter Nymphadora, but then Nymphadora too had decided not to take a vacation, as she had just had her first breakthrough in the field after finishing her years-long Auror training.

He felt a slight pressure of a foot in his ribs, “Wake up, dear. You’ll get a sunburn.” Harry immediately regretted opening his eyes as he saw Andromeda standing over him, the sun masking her face, but not her body.

“Ugh…!” He rolled over in slight revulsion and buried his face in the sand.

This time Andromeda used a charm to tickle him, “Come on, come on, don’t be a child!”

She ushered him towards the hammock set up between the trees. He stood up grumbling and walked over to them ignoring the looks he got. Harry Potter was famous, even in France. Frankly, he was more than a bit tired of the constant attention.

“Hey, Harry!”

“Hello, Ted…” He grumbled unenthusiastically as he got up on the hammock and settled, viewing the sky through the canopy.

Ted gave him a look of sympathy. Thankfully, he didn’t have to endure that for long. A tray of drinks floated towards them, Ted placed a Bezant on the tray and took three drinks. Andromeda took one and handed him a glass and he gently sipped on the drink.

“Harry.” He heard Ted call him, and he ignored the man, but the said man was persistent, “Son, you’re attracting quite a lot of attention.”

“But I don’t want any attention!” He whined at him.

“Grow up.” Both Ted and Andromeda said in unison.

Harry was seriously wondering why he was looking at Andromeda as a possible mother figure. She was clearly the older sister type, who strived to make his life a living hell, not that he knew what it was like to have a sibling relationship like that, but he hoped this was how it must feel. She caught his jaw and forcibly turned him towards the girl who had been staring at him.

As proud as he was, he had to admit the girl was cute. Well, if he was being honest, she was more than just cute. Raven hair, petite figure, a beautiful heart-shaped face, hazel eyes, thin soft lips, and she was topless, what else did a man need. And therein laid the problem. The girl looked young, as young as him, and having the memories of three people all of them well past the prime of their lives, he felt old, his mind felt old. Which made his attraction to girls his age tricky, to his modern sensibilities, it made him feel rather like a pedophile.

“She’s cute.” Harry sighed miserably.

“Then go talk to her.” Ted advised eagerly, “I can give you some tips if you want.”

“I’ve been married to six different women in _my long, long life_. Believe me, I know…”

‘WHAP’ Andromeda whacked him on the head, “Stop boasting as if that’s some achievement.”

“I’m not boasting!” He snapped back.

“So, you feel older, it’s not the end of the world, and it’s definitely not a curse. You’re young, you should be happy. Do you know what I’d give to be fifteen again?” Andromeda had enough of the boy she had grown to like being a pain for the last five days of their vacation.

Ted snorted, “Apart from the fact that you just celebrated your fortieth birthday _twice_?”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock. The temperature dropped within the nearby area as Andromeda gave Ted a glare that left the man whimpering like a puppy while making his skin bristle at the sheer hostility he felt.

“Anyway…” Andromeda drawled giving Ted one last look before turning to him, making him shudder, “…you should use this, learn from this.”

“Do you have any idea what I’d have given for a boyfriend who knew what he was doing? Imagine the number of hours of awkwardness it took to get _him_ …” She glared at her husband who was busy pretending to read, “…to be passable at certain things in the bedroom.”

Harry scrunched his nose at that, “Ugh…”

“Listen.” She urged him to listen, “You’ve been in love. You’ve been married. You know how to pleasure a woman. You could be the perfect boyfriend to a very lucky girl.”

“How does this help me not feel like a predator?” Harry deadpanned bluntly.

Andromeda pinched the bridge of her nose, “Are you a predator?”

“No, but…”

“Ah, uh, uhhh…” She shook her head, “If you’re not going to manipulate, then you have nothing to be worried about.”

It was easy for her to say. She didn’t have the memories of an aspiring dark wizard, who did several twisted gruesome things in the name of immortality.

“Go, go, go…” She nudged him in the general direction of the female population.

Harry sighed as he stood up and walked away, schooling his features with a fake smile. Frankly, he wasn’t very interested in pursuing relationships anymore, his mind was occupied with other things, important things, like Voldemort, Death Eaters and his lack of power to do anything.

But he didn’t see a choice, the entire reason why they were here was to distract him from such troubling things. As he laid eyes on the girl, he felt dread in his heart, not fear but worry, about what he did not know, but it clenched tightly. He didn’t need women who saw him as the famous boy-who-lived, he needed them to see him as Harry, the uninteresting Harry. Well, he would never know unless he tried, so he picked up his pace and went briskly.

Meanwhile by the trees. “Five Galleons say that she rejects him.” Ted offered a bet to his wife.

“I’m in…”

* * *

**_Peak Mansion-_ **

The Black family property was huge and beautiful, furnished in dark green and grey with an antique picturesque guise. Sirius walked down the grand stairs and headed towards the kitchen. He paused when he saw Harry sitting on the counter having cake while engrossed in a small book.

“Good morning, pup!” Sirius exclaimed with great enthusiasm.

In return, the wizard got a distracted, “Hey, Sirius. I made tea.”

“Thanks, pup.” Harry’s lack of enthusiasm did not bring the animagus wizard’s mood down, “What’s gotten you so interested in a book?”

“I’m trying to grasp the idea behind water-magic.” Harry flipped the page over and he continued reading.

“Why?” Sirius poured himself some tea and asked curiously.

“I thought I could touch upon some defensive spells, in case I needed it, now that Voldemort’s back, and knowing that he will come after me, it’s inevitable. I’m thinking that perhaps I can prepare in advance.”

“Good thinking.” Sirius was glad that his godson was taking his safety seriously.

Sirius decided to change the topic from Voldemort and an eventual battle, “I heard you met a girl yesterday at the beach.” Sirius took a sip of his tea and asked, “Anything interesting that I ought to know about?”

“Not really…” He replied without taking his eyes off the book for a moment, “She was uninteresting.”

Sirius deflated at Harry’s words, “Did you even give her a chance?”

“I did.” He gave his uncle a look.

Sirius placed the cup on the counter and stood straight, “Tell me, what did you find _uninteresting_ about her?”

“First of all, she knew who I was. I was the famous Harry Potter, that’s why she eyed me in the first place. Secondly, she may have looked young but she was nineteen, so I was worried for nothing when I thought of myself as a predator before I went over.”

“An older girl? Oooh…!” Sirius was now impressed.

“And she didn’t mind that I was fourteen, she just wanted a piece of the boy-who-lived.” Harry’s nose twitched in slight disgust.

Sirius shrugged with a grin, “I’m not seeing the problem here.”

Harry ignored his godfather’s lecherous grin, “We were having a pleasant conversation. Until I asked her about her ideal vacation plans, and then it began. She went on and on about this country and that, she didn’t shut up for forty straight minutes. She didn’t even let me respond to any of her questions, she answered them herself and kept going.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, pup.” Sirius gave him a small smile of pity, “Did you at least snog a little?” Sirius inquired whisperingly. Harry rolled his eyes at his godfather’s antics.

“Would have been a waste of time anyway,” Harry muttered and Sirius sensed the undertone of something else.

Sirius leaned against the counter and looked him in the eye and asked, “So, tell me what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” He quirked his eyebrows and smiled dubiously.

“I brought you here so that you can unwind and relax, and yet you’re still detached and constantly in thought. Something’s bothering you, and I’d like to know what.” Sirius summarised carefully.

Harry stared at Sirius and their eyes met, each waiting for the other to give up. Sirius had experience handling James and Lily, both of them were stubborn as an ox. Sirius prevailed and Harry sighed.

“I…” He began but hesitated.

“I don’t know…” He admitted finally, “Everything’s different. Everything’s changed. I can sense the presence of every living thing in under twenty yards, all around me, at all times. It’s tiring. I…”

“I’m not sure, how to _feel_ about it, Sirius. Ever since I ‘awoke’ that morning at home, I’m feeling overwhelmed by everything constantly. And if I close my magic, if I chose to shut it out, I feel vulnerable, even if I know I’m safe, I can’t help but feel vulnerable.”

“I can’t seem to find my centre of…balance.”

“Perhaps, if I can keep my mind occupied with something that I find interesting, maybe I-I…” Harry rubbed his face his hands and breathed heavily, “I don’t know.”

Sirius looked serious, thinking hard on his godson’s words, “Harry, I cannot possibly imagine what it must be like for you. All I can do is make you feel at home.”

Harry nodded. He could understand that Sirius had kidnapped him from Durzkaban against Dumbledore and the Order to help him. He appreciated it, very much. But he needed more than a home, he needed answers, answers to questions he hadn’t even asked yet. Things that he would never find here.

“That being said.” Sirius gained his attention again, “I never asked you this because you were trying to distract yourself and I wished to help. But considering everything, I wish I had asked, what do you want to do, pup?”

He knew Sirius was right. Before France, he was in no state of mind to go on a vacation and he never would have asked that even if Sirius had asked him. The vacation did help ease him, just not as much as he had hoped it would. But now, he knew what he wanted.

Harry looked Sirius hesitantly, “Can we go to Godric’s Hollow?”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is done. I hope you like it. I want to build things up slowly, not just jump into the story and go as if everything happens in a rush.


	5. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter, JKR does…  
> I’ve don’t wanna spoil the fun just yet. Let’s just not waste time and go into the chapter…  
> Feedbacks are much appreciated. I’ve decided on Grey Harry, but with allegiance to the light side

**_Godric’s Hollow-_ **

Harry and a _disguised_ Sirius stood before the ruined structure. The hedge had grown wild in the fourteen years since Hagrid had taken him from the rubble that lay scattered amongst the waist-high grass. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in dark ivy, the right side of the top floor had been blown apart; that, Harry was sure, was where the curse had backfired. He and disguised Sirius stood at the gate, gazing at the wreck of what must once have been a cottage just like those that flanked it.

They stood there in silence. There was nothing either wished to say. This place was just a memory, it held nothing living, and no one missed it, not even him. After a long wait, he finally mustered up enough courage and he grabbed the thickly rusted gate, not wishing to open it, but simply to hold some part of the house.

He didn’t know why he wanted to come here. What was he searching for? Why did he think he could find anything here? Or was it just for the sake of closure? To finally let go of the past.

His touch on the gate seemed to have done it. A sign rose out of the ground in front of them, up through the tangles of nettles and weeds, like some bizarre, fast-growing flower, and in golden letters upon the wood it said:

_On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family._

And all around these neatly lettered words, scribbles had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy-Who-Lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting Ink; others had carved their initials into the wood, still, others had left messages.

The most recent of these, shining brightly over fourteen years’ worth of magical graffiti, all said similar things.

_Good luck, Harry wherever you are._

_If you read this, Harry, we’re all behind you!_

_Long live Harry Potter._

A strangled sob broke out of him. He hadn’t meant to break down, but for the first time in his life, he was properly grieving the loss. His guilt over Cedric’s death, and the image of the echoes of his parents during his duel with Riddle in the graveyard. It all came back to him.

When Hagrid had told him about his parents when he had come knocking down the door, he was angry, at aunt Petunia, at Vernon, at Dudley, but he hadn’t felt the loss then. How could he, he didn’t even remember them, not their faces, not their voices, not their love. Watching the Mirror of the Erised, he had wished for them to be alive, to see them and be loved by them. But now, knowing what he knew, knowing that the nightmare wasn’t over, that the war had just begun, it made his heartache with grief.

He felt something graze against his legs, he looked down and saw Sirius in his Animagus form. Through the tears, he looked at Sirius to see the eyes of the black hound. It wasn’t pity he saw in Sirius, but heartfelt sorrow.

He bent down and hugged the black dog, “I miss them, Snuffles. I miss them so much.”

* * *

The Graveyard seemed magical but lonely. The headstones were made out of white marble. Harry knelt before it, leaning in close to make out the words engraved upon it.

JAMES POTTER LILY POTTER

BORN 27 MARCH 1960 BORN 30 JANUARY 1960

DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981 DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981

_“The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.”_

Harry read the words slowly, as though he would have only one chance to take in their meaning. When he had pictured himself coming here, he had wanted to say so many things to them.

He had wanted to apologize to them, to tell them how he wished it had been him who had died in their place, to tell them how much he missed them, to tell them that he was glad that he had been born as their son. To tell them his life at school, about his friends, about Sirius, Remus and the Weasleys, he had wanted to pour out his heart to his parents.

But now that he stood here…, in front of the headstones. He realised, there was nothing here. His parents weren’t here, they were long gone. And his words meant nothing to anyone because he knew no one was listening. And what he left unsaid made his heart sore and heavy with regret.

He stood up and turned, walking away with Sirius beside him. Harry ignored his wrenching heart that was beating in his throat as reality settled on him, weighing him down. Sirius transformed back for a moment before grabbing his shoulder and disapparating away with a loud ‘pop’.

* * *

**_Kettlelock Estate-_ **

Harry sat there staring at the hot tea left untouched, as Dumbledore sat beside him in his light green robes having just given him the news. While they had been in France, Remus had explained the situation to the headmaster. When they had returned, the headmaster was furious with Sirius for removing him from Privet Drive. But he had defended Sirius, going as far to yell at Dumbledore that he wished to never go back to the Dursleys ever again.

He had gotten his wish. Dudley was now in a coma from which he would never recover from, ever. He may have disliked, maybe even hated his whale of a cousin for terrorising him in his childhood, but he never wished him to harm like this.

Two Dementors had come to Little Whinging in search of him which was no doubt Voldemort’s doing. The creatures had instead caught Dudley out in the open. The Dementors had ‘kissed’ Dudley, devouring his soul.

Not that he cared, but any chance of reconciling with the Dursleys was now over. As glad as he was about being free of the Dursleys’ grasp, he felt a pang of crushing guilt in his heart. How would he ever face aunt Petunia ever again? What would he say to her if he ever did see her? All these years she had feared him for his magic, and now it had come true, because of him now Dudley would never wake up from his coma.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it, professor?” He asked.

“Harry, my boy, you must understand. This is not your fault.” Dumbledore’s calm tone helped a little.

“But it is…” Harry urged harshly, “…those Dementors came there looking for me!”

Dumbledore nodded as if he was agreeing, but said, “If that was all it took to make it your fault, then it should be my fault because I placed you in that home as a baby. If I hadn’t done that, then your cousin might have been fine now.”

Harry shook his head in disagreement, but did not try to argue further, for he had another question for the headmaster, “Why does this keep happening, headmaster? First Cedric, now Dudley. Why?”

“Young Mr Diggory’s death is no fault of yours, neither is your cousin’s death. Voldemort is the one who is to blame.” The headmaster said.

“You didn’t answer my question, headmaster.”

The aged headmaster gazed at him, “Life cannot be the same to all, my boy. Some of us are destined to…to endure.”

“Is that what I’m supposed to do? Endure?” Harry found himself wondering aloud.

“Yes.” Dumbledore said, “I believe it is the duty of everyone in this world to endure life as hard it may be.”

Harry glanced at the twinkling eyes of the aged warlock and nodded, “I need your help, professor.”

“I’ve had an ‘Awakening’ of some sort. Thanks to the magic in the Phoenix’s tears.”

“I know my boy. Sirius has explained it to me.” Headmaster Dumbledore said, “Sight is an exceptionally rare ability, not everyone has that gift, but as you age, a witch’s or wizard’s ability to glimpse through ‘Sight’ rises with your strengthening mind and its connection to magic.”

Harry shook his head. He didn’t need the theory, he needed help, “How do I cope with this? I can see and feel everything. I cannot focus on one particular thing; it makes me feel blind and deaf. Overwhelmed.”

The headmaster stroked his beard and said, “I do not think I can help you there, my boy. The ‘Sight’ differs for each individual. Through years of experience, I have gained some skills at ‘Sight’. My ability allows me to see the magical aura. Yours is different, you have now the memories of your past lives, that is not something I can help you with. You must learn how to control it and use it on your own. No lesson can help you with it.”

“Trial and error, you mean?”

Dumbledore agreed, “Yes. Trial and error, that’s the truth of it. I have never come across a case where a Phoenix’s tears have helped _awaken_ a person's Sight.”

“Even gifted Seers do not have control of their sight, the visions they see are always random, and when they are in a trance the seers usually do not even know who they are. Seers who can recall their visions after they fall out of their trance are rarer. Divination teaches you how to read a vision and to interpret it when it presents itself to you, but _not_ how to access the ‘Sight’ at will and use it to see the future or past on your terms.”

“I think…I understand.” He said as he realised that he will have to develop this on his own.

“What do you remember of your past lives, Harry?” The headmaster asked carefully.

“The most recent one, Lowden, I remember everything about him, from the beginning to the end. The next one Selwyn, memories are lesser, I cannot remember everything, there are gaps, sometimes years of gaps in the memories. The oldest I remember is that Sevenhill fellow, memories are rare, but I know just enough about the man’s life.” Harry paused and looked up to see the headmaster who was in deep thought.

“I know, there was someone before him, but I cannot remember anything about him…” Dumbledore gazed at him.

“I’m assuming that you feel the presence of someone before, but can’t seem to recall anything at all…” Albus surmised knowingly.

Harry nodded in agreement to the headmaster’s analogy. The headmaster accepted that without question.

“Harry, my boy, do you feel like perhaps you are them or do you think they are separate people?” Dumbledore’s question made him think.

Harry gazed at the old wizard and then he answered with not enough words to describe it, “I have their memories, but I do not feel like I am the same as them. I can feel…a connection if you can call it that.”

Harry mused deeply once again and then continued, “They are different people, sir.”

“Good.” Albus said softly, “You should be careful in how you see yourself. Use the memories, their past, their experiences, try to learn from it, but do not think _you_ are the same as _them_ , and _they_ are the same as _you_.”

The headmaster squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, “I will find a way to help you, my boy. For now, remain here with Sirius…, and try not to let your thoughts rule your emotions.”

Harry reluctantly agreed, “Yes, headmaster.”

And then they said their goodbyes as Dumbledore left after briefly meeting with Remus and Sirius outside while giving them instructions. Sirius immediately came in and asked him if he was okay, and if he needed anything. While he said he was fine, his mind wandered back to Dudley. He took Dumbledore’s advice and tried to imagine something else, and found himself musing about that day on the beach.

He felt like an idiot, perhaps he was. When he had been on the beach, he was so restless that he had asked to come back, to go to Godric’s Hollow for some prospecting. But now that he was back home, he wished he was once again in France. What was wrong with him, he wondered?

Harry recalled something from Lowden’s life, what a superior officer had advised him after the war. What Lowden needed to move on from his past, was a goal, a plan. Something to keep his mind occupied, something that was productive to do with his time. Lowden had decided to go back to his parents’ farm and help them with their crops, to use his pension to help his sisters and brother have a life that he couldn’t.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense to him. He needed a goal, something long-term that he could dedicate himself to. A goal that he would enjoy pursuing. But what did he enjoy? He asked himself the question, but he couldn’t come up with an immediate answer. Harry vowed to himself to find it, at all cost.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two-chapter combo back to back. I wanted to post the last two chapters together. The introductions are over, I’ve laid the groundwork. From the next chapter on, we’re going into the real story. Canon compliant, but there will be deviations.


	6. Fifth Year Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter, JKR does…  
> Feedbacks are much appreciated.

* * *

**_Hogwarts Express-_ **

Harry was sitting in the prefect carriage, ignoring the looks of the other prefects while reading a very interesting albeit advanced book on magical auras that he had ‘borrowed’ from the library at home. The Potters had a fair bit of inventors, authors and spell-makers in the family, and hence had an extensive library.

The last month had gone by smoothly. He had always had a flair for cooking, but aunt Petunia had never allowed him to cook dishes he wanted to cook, she made him help out in the kitchen and wash dishes and sometimes help with her cooking, but never gave him full control of her domain. But now that he had free reign over the kitchen and since Sirius was shite at cooking, he took the role in the house. If he didn’t think of it as a chore, god he enjoyed it.

They had spent the rest of the summer together, except the times Sirius and Remus attended Order meetings at the Grimmauld Place. Sirius and Remus had a lot of stories about his parents they wished to share and he had all the patience in the world to listen to them. He even got the opportunity to speak with his grandparents’ portraits. Harry liked his grandparents Fleamont Potter and Euphemia Potter, and they liked him as well. His grandmother called him ‘sweet pea’, it made him blush every time. Having heard aunt Petunia use such nicknames on Dudley and never on him, it had made him yearn for such endearment as a child. But it had never registered in his conscious mind until grandma Effie had called him a ‘sweet pea’. Grandmother and grandfather told him how he looked like the spitting image of his father, except his eyes and his thin jawline, which were his mother’s.

Andromeda dropped by every now and then with food and potions, to check on Sirius, and to feed him. She called him scrawny and underweight and most often threatened him if he did not drink his potions. She was scary.

Sirius claimed that it was the fact Andromeda had always wanted a son as well as a daughter, but since she never had a son, she was enticed by the idea of having a boy to dote on. As much as he _disliked_ her ‘tough love’, he had to give it to her when it came to fashion, she had taken him shopping for an entirely new wardrobe, while he had hated every minute of her using him as a dress-up doll for her amusements, he really did like the new clothes. More than all that, she taught him household magic, oh god the sheer number of spells that most wizards never learned to use, she had dumped it all on him inside a month. From repairing a house to cooking dishes to knitting and darning to transfiguring clothes, she knew it all, and now he knew a good amount of it as well.

All of it had distracted him and he had kept his mind from wandering to Cedric’s death. Andromeda suggested to Dumbledore to send him to a mind-healer, but they could not guarantee his safety even with the Advance Guards, so he was not even allowed to leave the estate. The headmaster had been furious with their trip to France and Godric’s Hollow as it is, claiming that both of which were unnecessary risks, while nothing had happened during their trips, it still had been a risk. In the end, Andromeda had convinced Dumbledore to let him visit the Diggory family. Apologising to the grieving parents was harder than he had thought it would be. He had fully expected them to be resentful that he had survived while Cedric had not, but neither parents had blamed him for Cedric’s death. Although Mr Diggory’s reception was frosty, Mrs Diggory however had told him that she did not blame him and that she believed him and Dumbledore, that it was Voldemort who was to blame. Learning how to move past his guilt had become easier after that. All in all, it was a very productive summer.

Harry’s thoughts wandered back to the present as he realised that the stares hadn’t lessened. He checked to see if he was wearing his prefect badge that he had gotten in the mail, and he was.

Harry felt something pierce his mood, he didn’t even need to look up to see Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson glaring at him. Thankfully, Ernie Macmillan walked over and sat beside him, not caring in the least that he was an _‘attention-seeking liar’_ as per the Daily Prophet and the Ministry’s narrative.

The prefect carriage was larger than the rest of the carriages. Each year prefects had their compartments. He was with the rest of the fifth-year prefects. Along with Ernie, Hannah Abbott was the prefect for Hufflepuff. Anthony Goldstein was for Ravenclaw, the female prefect for Ravenclaw hadn’t arrived yet. He was certain that for Gryffindor it was Hermione, McGonagall would most certainly not recommend the position to anyone else.

Harry checked his watch. It was forty-one past ten o’clock. That’s when Ernie leaned closer and asked him, “What are you reading?”

He glanced at Ernie who held a box of liquorice wands and he shrugged taking one as he showed the page to Ernie. He took a bite and then he explained, “This is a book on magical auras.”

“Auras?” Ernie asked curiously.

He nodded, “They say everything has an aura. Sometimes, observant wizards learned how to detect auras making it difficult to mask a person’s presence even with things like an invisibility cloak or notice-me-not charms or disillusionment charms.”

“Rather like using a re-visibility spec?” Ernie half-stated, half-asked.

“Yes, exactly.” Harry grinned with a nod.

Ernie took another bit of his liquorice wand, pulling the chewy sweet with his teeth, “Why are you reading this? It’s not in our coursework, is it?”

“Call it curiosity.” Harry replied softly, “I came across someone who could see auras, hence I got curious.”

“You did? Who?” Ernie was now very interested.

Harry grinned at that, “Sorry, I can’t say.”

He could feel Malfoy’s and Pansy’s glares intensifying tenfold. He noticed furtive glances of Anthony and Hannah, both of whom wanted to talk to him, but were afraid for some reason.

The mounting tension in the carriage was diffused when Padma Patil and Hermione slid open the door and walked in. Padma’s eyes lingered on him for a moment before it narrowed and she said a brief word to Hermione and went to sit with Anthony, her fellow prefect from her house. He couldn’t help but feel amused by it, Padma was still mad at him for what happened during the Yule Ball. It wasn’t his fault that he was a bad dancer and didn’t enjoy dancing very much. Well, perhaps it was his fault since he had spent the entire dance watching Cho, but he rationalised it to himself since he had a lot on his mind that day.

Meanwhile, Hermione swiftly zoomed in on him and sat beside him while giving Ernie a look, which he was sure said, ‘piss off’, if Hermione ever were to use such colourful language. Which thankfully Ernie noticed and moved away from him. Hermione looked as if she wanted to hug him but was restraining herself in the company of the other prefects, who would sure start a gossip.

“Oh, Harry, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless - but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got things to tell us -the Dementors!” She ranted in harsh whispering tones.

The scar on his forehead stung, as Harry felt a pit of ice in his stomach as he heard Hermione rant, “Headmaster asked you not to write, right?” He asked as if he was surprised but wasn’t really.

“I know it wouldn’t have stopped _me_ from writing to you or Ron, even if Dumbledore had asked me not to. I would have found a way.” There was a strained silence as Hermione looked abashed by his words.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Hermione breathed worriedly, “He seemed to think it was best. Dumbledore, I mean.”

“Right,” He nodded giving a disappointed sigh.

“I’m…” Hermione began, but he interjected, “It’s alright. I at least had a good time with…Snuffles.” He was about to say Sirius but realised that it was better to leave that name out considering their present company.

“Harry, I _am_ sorry. We did ask Dumbledore why we couldn’t write to you. He told us that owls could be intercepted.” Hermione reasoned.

Harry felt irritation itching up, “You’re telling me there are no other ways to send messages other than owls?” His voice was even, but his tone clipped.

“I thought that too.” Hermione admitted apologetically, “But he didn’t want you to know anything.”

“When did you find out that I was living with Si…Snuffles?” He caught himself at the last moment and corrected the slip.

Hermione bit her lip at that, “Mrs Weasley told us after the Dementors ‘kissed’ your cousin.” She whispered that last part in his ear.

“Why didn’t you ask Dumbledore if you could contact me then?” He asked politely, but with a slight edge in his tone.

“Dumbledore was always busy; we couldn’t meet him.” Hermione said sombrely.

Harry scoffed at her, “And you couldn’t have sent me a message through Remus or…Snuffles?”

“We did try to…but we weren’t allowed at the meetings. We rarely saw Snuffles or Remus, and even then, we didn’t get to speak with him.” Hermione said weakly.

Harry shook his head at her, “Well, you didn’t try hard enough it seems.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at that, “Why didn’t _you_ write to _us_?”

“I did write to you. My mails were being intercepted by the Order. After I started living with Snuffles, I asked Dumbledore why none of my letters was getting a response, and if I could speak with you. And he said that he had asked you both not to write to me for my safety. He apologised to me and assured me that he would inform you both, that it was alright for you to contact me again since I was on an unplottable property. But _I_ asked him not to tell you anything. You see, I was wondering how long it would take for the both of you to follow-up on Dumbledore or perhaps find another way. And apparently, neither of you cared enough to try…” He replied evenly with a sad smirk.

Hermione was now on the verge of tears, her head fixing downwards, her gaze fixed on her lap.

“I-I’m sorry, Harry.” She said, her lips trembling.

Harry sighed harshly, “It doesn’t matter. No harm, no foul.” He wanted to be angry, he did, but he knew that it would not lead to anything good. They both had cut off contact with him on Dumbledore’s orders fearing for _his_ safety. He needed Hermione and Ron, he couldn’t imagine a year without either of them, and it wouldn’t do any good starting the year with a row.

That’s when the train whistled and he felt the carriage moving. He checked his watch and found it at exactly eleven o’clock. After a few minutes of silence, while he observed Malfoy and Pansy speaking with each other rather hurriedly, glancing at him every so often. Anthony, Padma and Ernie were making interesting conversation about a new charm, while Hannah was immersed in a Herbology book.

The door slid open and then the Head Boy Roger Davies and Head Girl Angelina Johnson walked in and ushered them towards the prefects’ common room in the carriage, where the sixth-year and seventh-year prefects were waiting for them. And then, the introductions of the new prefects and then the instructions of their duties and rights began.

* * *

Nearly an hour later, Harry walked out of the prefects’ carriage to find himself an empty compartment to sit and maybe make his rounds at his leisure. As he was walking, Hermione came up from behind him and grabbed his arm.

“Where are you going?” She asked anxiously.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, “To find a seat.”

“Ron, Ginny and the others are that way…” Hermione said anxiously.

“I don’t want to sit with them.” He said bluntly.

“What?” Hermione asked in shock. She looked torn, she clearly wanted to go and find the rest, but she also didn’t want to leave him, “Harry, please come sit with us.”

That’s when his anger took root again, “Why? You all had a good time without me all summer. Why do you need me now?” As soon as he said it, he regretted it, but it was done and there was no going back.

Hermione looked like she was slapped, her lips trembled again and her eyes glistened in tears. He didn’t want to deal with her crying, so he simply turned and walked away. A part of him told him that this was for the best, another part of him argued that he had made the biggest mistake of his life, he didn’t know which part to listen to.

It didn’t take long for him to find an empty compartment. A sixth-year boy and girl from Ravenclaw had placed a ‘notice-me-not’ charm and ‘silencing’ charm on the door and decided to get comfortable. He noticed it thanks to his ‘Sight’ and undid the spell with a quick ‘finite’. He had given them both a warning and told them to get dressed and leave.

He had quickly changed into his school robes. Not ten minutes later, just when he had gotten comfortable with the book on auras, the door slid open and Hermione, Ginny and Ron walked in.

“Mate, we need to talk.” Ron said as soon as he entered and took the seat in front of him, Hermione sat beside Ron and Ginny beside her, all three facing him. He raised his eyebrows with a smile and leaned back into the cushion comfortably to listen to their excuses.

Ron began, “Mate, listen, we did want to…” Ron trailed off as his eyes fell on the badge pinned on his robes.

“You’re a prefect?!” Ron asked grumpily, “How come you get to be a prefect?”

Both Ginny and Hermione turned sharply at Ron and yelled in unison, “RON!”

That did bring a small smile to his face, but he expertly disguised it behind his mocking guise. He crossed his legs and moved a finger and the book on the cushion levitated on its own and was suspended before him, as he once again got comfortable and continued reading. All three noticed his wandless magic but said nothing about it.

“Harry, we’re sorry,” Ginny said exasperatedly.

“We really are, mate.” Ron added in.

“Apology accepted.” He said distractedly, not even taking the time to glance at them.

They understood that he was just saying that to get rid of them. None of them would make it that easy for him, as they decided to sit there watching him read. Another twenty minutes later, Neville and a girl named Luna found them and decided to make themselves comfortable. Another twenty minutes passed and everyone was having a conversation, while he ignored them. And when the hour came to an end, he decided to go on his rounds, Hermione right behind him.

As soon as he came in the vicinity of anyone, everyone either went silent or stared at him. Sirius had warned him about this and he didn’t mind this as much as he thought he would. He had experienced this twice now, first when the entire school thought of him as the Heir of Slytherin and then last year when his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, and he didn’t care anymore. It did make him uncomfortable, but he was hardly surprised by this.

When they finished their rounds and reported back to the Head Girl and Head Boy, they walked back to their seats. “Harry,” Hermione called him and he turned to her.

“I’m-”

“You’re sorry, I get it.” He said it for her.

“How long will you be mad at us?” Hermione asked desperately.

He sighed, “I’m not angry…, not anymore at least.” He amended that statement in the end, “I’m disappointed. After what happened last year, I expected this from Ron, who can’t think of a damn thing for himself unless it had something to do with food, girls or quidditch. But you…, I didn’t expect this from you, Hermione.”

Suddenly she was finding the ground far more interesting than his face, “All I can say is that I’m sorry.”

“Did it help when I said that I accepted your apology?” Hermione looked at him.

Hermione trembled a little, but found the courage to retort, “You didn’t mean what you said, while we did.”

Harry scoffed at her, “I did mean it. I do accept your apology, but that doesn’t mean I forgive you. If me saying that I accept your apology didn’t help, then how can you just say that you’re sorry and then expect me to just accept it. Actions count more than words, Hermione.” He shook his head as he walked away.

“Actions count more than words…”

* * *

**_Hogsmeade Station-_ **

Harry and Hermione supervised the train as everyone scrambled to get their luggage and pets to get off. As everyone got off, he and Hermione met with the other prefects and walked out, while the sixth-year prefects swept the train for anyone left behind.

He searched for Hagrid, but couldn’t find him. Maybe he had left, the first years were no longer on the platform. So, he and Hermione walked silently towards the hundred or so horseless stagecoaches that always took the students above first-years up to the castle. On the way, they ran into Malfoy and his cronies bullying a timid second-year, but when Malfoy noticed him and Hermione coming, he had quickly walked away.

The coaches however were no longer horseless. Creatures were standing between the carriage shafts. Fleshless, reptilian, horses, their black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were dragonish, and their pupil-less eyes white and staring. Wings sprouted from each side, vast, black leathery wing that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the gathering gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister. These horses were Thestrals.

He had never known that the coaches were pulled by thestrals of all things. Antonius in his past life had killed enough people to see thestrals, but he had studied in Durmstrang, and hence hadn’t known anything about Hogwarts. Selwyn in the past had studied in Hogwarts but had never seen a thestral in his seven years of schooling.

Harry suddenly strode forward, straight to the closest thestral and he slowly placed his hand on the winged horse's head and he rubbed the leathery skin, “All this time and I never knew.” He muttered softly.

“Harry, what are you doing?” Hermione asked, her expressions looked worried.

He turned to look at Hermione and realised that she would not be able to see it. She hadn’t seen someone die. It made him feel melancholy. He gently took Hermione’s wrist and he brought it to the docile thestral’s head and placed her hand on the skin. Hermione’s eyes widened in shock as she realised that there was something she could not see.

“What is it?” Hermione asked in surprise, as she brought her other hand to touch the creature.

“This is a thestral, Hermione.” He told her softly. All those who walked past them kept giving them curious looks.

“A thestral?” She asked in confusion.

Harry shook his head as he said simply, “They are a breed of invisible winged-horses.”

Hermione studied his face and then asked, “Can you see them, Harry?”

“Yes.”

She looked at the horse that she was still touching, “Why can’t I see them?”

At that, he walked away muttering loud enough for her to hear it, “You have to witness death to see it...” Hermione’s eyes widened as she clasped her mouth with her hand in shock, seeing Harry walk away with his head down.

As they boarded a coach and ascended towards the castle along the rocky road, he shared an interesting conversation with Luna. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were sitting with him and Luna in the coach.

“You can see them too, Harry Potter?” Luna asked him.

“Call me Harry.” He held out his hand and she seemed fascinated before shaking his hand, “Yes, I can see the thestrals too. How long have you been able to see them?”

“I've been able to see them ever since my first day here. They've always pulled the carriages.” Luna said dreamily.

Despite the fact that he realised that Luna had to have witnessed a tragedy to see them, it made him smile at the girl. Her innocent gestures brought out a fatherly instinct from within him, it made him want to protect and shield her from this world.

“They are quite beautiful, aren’t they?” Harry smiled at the girl, but his eyes held sorrow.

Luna beamed widely at him, “Yes, they are.”

He then noticed Luna reading a magazine upside down, so he asked her about it, and she enthusiastically explained all the ludicrous things in the magazine called Quibbler. Hermione snorted when Luna explained some of the things in the book, to which he glared at her to silence her. By the time they reach Hogwarts, he had made a new friend.

* * *

**_Great Hall-_ **

The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in mid-air all along with the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. Again, Harry noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as he passed; he paid them no mind.

Luna drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table. The moment they reached Gryffindors, Ginny was hailed by some fellow fourth-years and left to sit with them. Harry found a seat beside Neville, Ron and Hermione sat together beside Neville. They were about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly-friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had stopped talking about him a split second before. He had more important things to worry about, however: he was looking over the students' heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall.

Hagrid was missing, and in her place was professor Grubbly-Plank. His mind drifted to Sirius who had told him about Hagrid’s mission to convince the giant colonies not to join Voldemort’s cause. The fact that Hagrid wasn’t back yet gave him a clue to how difficult the mission must be. He prayed for Hagrid’s well-being, for that was all he could do.

Harry’s eyes followed the staff table. His eyes fell upon Professor Dumbledore, who was sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the centre of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. But his gaze quickly rooted on a woman who sat beside the headmaster. She looked, like somebody's maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes.

This is the woman that Remus, Sirius and Dumbledore had warned him of. Dolores Umbridge. Headmaster had written in the last letter that when the school year opens, he will cut of all contacts with Harry on purpose, to ensure that the Ministry could not paint him being under Dumbledore’s control any longer. Umbridge was here to control the school and to watch him and hinder him, and he was under orders not to give her any ammunition that she could use against them.

The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first-years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back. The rip in the Sorting Hat’s brim opened and the hat sang for them, describing the qualities of all the houses. But within the song was a warning that everyone understood. The song ended and the claps came, but for the first time along the applause were half-whispers and harsh mutterings. He realised miserably; this was going to be a difficult year.

The Sorting of the first-years ended rather quickly. The hat did not take any time to sort any of the children, every sorting was almost instantaneous.

“To our newcomers,” The headmaster said in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, “Welcome! To our old hands, welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!”

There was an appreciative laugh, and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder to keep it out of the way of his plate, for food had appeared out of nowhere so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread and sauces and flagons of pumpkin juice.

Ron started an argument with Nearly Headless Nick and spoke with his mouth stuffed with food, revolting everyone in the immediate vicinity. Hermione and Ron quickly began arguing back and forth, he was too used to their bickering to bother trying to reconcile them; he felt it was a better use of his time to eat his way steadily through his steak and kidney pie, then a large plateful of his favourite treacle tart. As he enjoyed the meal, his gaze wandered across the hall. He noticed Cho giving him furtive glances now and then, which he pretended as if he did not notice.

“Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices,” Dumbledore began, “First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students, and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too.”

“Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr Filch's office door.”

“We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.” There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause.

Dumbledore continued, “Try-outs for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the…”

He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, “Hem, hem…” and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman clearly did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.

“Thank you, Headmaster.” Professor Umbridge simpered, “For those kind words of welcome.”

“Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!” She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. “And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!”

Harry glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.

“I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!”

Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins. Many were giggling mockingly and many more had tuned out by then.

“The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them tor ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.”

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Harry distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little 'hem, hem' and went on with her speech.

“Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation…”

Harry found his attentiveness ebbing, as though his brain was slipping in and out of tune. The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Ron yawned tiredly and looked sleepy. Over on the Ravenclaw table, Cho was chatting animatedly with her friends, again glancing at him, this time more transparently to get him to notice her. Lavender, Parvati and few girls were making hushed conversations. He found his new friend Luna reading The Quibbler upside-down again, it made him smile fondly. Meanwhile, at the Hufflepuff table his fellow prefect Ernie was one of the few still staring at Professor Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and he was sure that the Hufflepuff was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to his new position as prefect.

Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Harry had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have ploughed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Hermione seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though, judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.

“…because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever practices ought to be prohibited.”

She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Harry noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.

“Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating.” Dumbledore said, bowing to her, but he felt the undertone of mockery in his features, “Now, as I was saying, Quidditch try-outs will be held…” The headmaster continued as if nothing had happened and the hall once again was attentive.

It was Neville who asked, “What did she mean?”

Hermione gritted her teeth as she said, “She means that the Ministry is about to interfere with Hogwarts.”

Hermione’s words stood as a warning of what was to come.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, in the plot we are. I brought in Harry’s angry blow up at Ron and Hermione right after arriving at Grimmauld Place here, except he’s not very angry. In the books, Harry was furious and he yelled, here he is just giving a bit of cold shoulder treatment. One of the things that I hated in the books was the fact that Harry did not make other closer friends like Ron and Hermione, there was Ginny but it was a matter of circumstance more than anything. I really hated that Neville never got to be Harry’s closer friend, who spent time with them like Ron. Feedbacks are much appreciated.


	7. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter, JKR does…  
> One of the things I hated from Book 5 is that JKR decided to make Harry a complete idiot without any interest to learn, to grow, she missed the perfect opportunity. Meanwhile, two years before, Harry was eager to learn. Despite all of their adventures, there was nothing that would have discouraged him from ‘learning’. There was no real explanation, she just implied that it was just his teenage laziness. Yeah, like a kid with the weight of the world on his shoulders, who is being hunted by the most dangerous Dark Lord would be lazy. Get real. My bet is she didn’t know how to write teenage Harry and she went with what she knew…  
> I hope you liked the last chapter. Feedbacks are much appreciated.

* * *

**_Gryffindor Tower-_ **

Harry and Hermione led the first-years to the tower, informing them that their luggage would already be in their dorms. Proper warning about boys not entering the girls’ dormitories was given, along with the curfew after dark and the rest of the rules. Hermione did most of the talking because the children were too busy staring at him in awe like Colin Creevey used to.

He smiled fondly at the children. It seemed like only yesterday he himself was being sorted in Gryffindor. ‘Not Slytherin…Not Slytherin…’ He remembered muttering to himself as the Hat Sorted him. He had come to Hogwarts, cherishing the feeling that he finally belonged somewhere in the world, somewhere he wasn’t a ‘freak’. But now, four years later, here he was as a prefect showing the first-years the ropes. Where had the time gone?

As a prefect, he had duties. Just now, he had to find a pet toad of a terrified first-year, and then he had helped a boy find his room. And just when the children settled, professor McGonagall entered the common room to check in with the prefects. The transfiguration professor took Angelina aside and gave her some serious instructions to which the Head Girl nodded in agreement along with a, ‘yes, professor’. Once the seventh years debriefed, the sixth-year prefects did and then it was his and Hermione’s turn.

“Mister Potter, Miss Granger…” McGonagall began, “I want you both to keep your ears alert and make sure that no student from Gryffindor gets into trouble. I assume it isn’t lost on you what has changed this year?”

“Professor Umbridge, ma’am?” He asked in a whisper. The transfiguration professor closed her eyes and gave them an imperceptible nod.

Professor McGonagall eyed them both, “Keep what I said in mind and act accordingly.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said.

“Yes, professor.” Hermione said.

And then the Transfiguration professor’s gaze sharpened on him, “Mister Potter, a word in private with you. My office.” She said and strode out of the portrait hole.

Hermione gave him the look, “What did you do?” She asked accusatorily.

Harry shrugged genuinely confused, “I have no idea.”

“Harry…” She almost threatened him.

“Hermione, I really haven’t got a clue.”

Her eyes flickered in doubt, but she quickly told him, “You better get going.” He sighed and then proceeded out of the tower and headed towards the first floor.

* * *

**_McGonagall’s office-_ **

“Please take a seat, Mister Potter.” Professor McGonagall said as soon as he entered her office. Harry took a seat by the fireplace and he connected his eyes with the bespectacled deputy headmistress.

“Headmaster was kind enough to explain your situation to me, Harry.” McGonagall never used his first name, her using his first name made it clear that this was a serious conversation.

“Yes, professor.” He agreed to urge her to continue with her questions.

“Headmaster has approved of your decision to drop Divinations and instead choose Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. I must ask you, was this decision spurned by your sudden ability to peer into the past? After all, with your newfound abilities as a seer, I would have expected you to thrive in your Divinations class.” Harry was not very adept at reading undertones and doublespeak, but in his past life, Selwyn was a sharp-tongued man, with that man’s memories he could see the intent of professor McGonagall’s question.

So that was what this was about, he realised that the deputy headmistress wasn’t happy with his letter to Griselda Marchbanks, essentially forcing headmaster Dumbledore to grant his request to switch electives two years after the deadline to choose.

It had been Andromeda’s idea. Andromeda was unimpressed with the subjects he had chosen as his electives. She had wanted him to drop both Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, and choose Arithmancy and Ancient Runes in its place. He managed to win that argument and he changed her mind about dropping Hagrid’s class, but then he did not have an ounce of strength left to argue with her about Trelawney’s, not that he wanted to.

They had written a letter to professor McGonagall about his decision to change electives, asking if that was possible now, but she had written back saying that it was not possible. She had reasoned in the letter that he would be two years behind in his coursework and it would reflect in his OWL results if he is not careful.

He had wanted to write to request the headmaster after that, but Andromeda had a different idea, she was taking no chances with his studies. Andromeda had written the letter and compiled the sentences, and chosen the right adjectives and quotes to impress the governor of the Wizarding Examinations Authority. She had just gotten his signature at the end before she sent it. And it had worked, because three days later, Sirius had brought headmaster Dumbledore’s letter which said that his request was approved and that he could indeed switch electives.

“Partly, it is ma’am.” He replied, “I assume you are familiar with Andromeda Tonks?”

“Yes, Mr Potter, I did teach her. A brilliant student, very skilled in Charms, even more so in potions.” The Transfiguration professor recalled with a strange smile.

“Well…as you know she is the cousin of our _‘close friend’_ …” He said knowingly, and by the look on professor McGonagall’s face, he knew she understood. But then he hesitated before continuing, “…she wasn’t very impressed with my choices in studies. She may have forced me to change my electives. However, I am glad that she did force my hand.”

“The reason that I complied with her is that I had a very soul-searching conversation with her. I’ve had an epiphany.” At that, professor McGonagall looked uniquely interested.

Professor McGonagall gave him a nod and told him to go on, and he did, “Before Hogwarts, at the Dursleys, I was never appreciated if I scored higher marks than my cousin, which wasn’t a very high bar considering how Dudley was as thick as a brick. Quite the opposite, if I ever scored higher, the next few weeks, things at home would often be rather ‘intolerable’. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would be quite upset and blame me for my ‘freakishness’. I didn’t realise this back then, that when they said freakishness, they meant magic. They thought I was scoring higher marks because I was magical.” Harry paused to study the professor, she looked equally pained and equally determined.

Harry sighed a little, “I didn’t realise that I’ve been doing the same thing here in school until aunt Andromeda spelt it out for me. Ron’s my best friend, and he is my first friend, I’ve been putting up with his habits in fear of losing my friendship with him.” He paused, catching her sceptical gaze, “All of this may sound like a convenient excuse, so I won’t say anymore. Instead, I’ll show you my full effort in class, in all my classes. You won’t regret this, professor.”

“I’m glad that you’re willing to apply yourself to your classes, Mr Potter. That being said, I’m quite disappointed with your actions.” She paused.

“Instead of outmanoeuvring the headmaster, you could have explained all of this to us in the first place, and we could have come up with a similar arrangement. But writing to the Examination Authority and enrolling yourself into OWLs for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy without even informing the headmaster about it is quite unorthodox.” McGonagall reprimanded him sternly.

“Hogwarts will not tolerate such behaviour from a student! This is your last warning, Mr Potter! Keep that in mind!” Professor McGonagall nearly yelled, her features furious, “You may go.”

Harry stood up and left with an apology. After all, he had no one to blame but himself, if he had been more careful in choosing his electives in the first place, this would not have happened.

* * *

_Next Morning…_

Harry was getting dressed but he saw Seamus giving him glances, which he promptly ignored. But then Seamus’s eyes met Ron’s, there was a pause before Seamus turned around and huffed, leaving the dorm in a flash. He didn’t know what happened between Ron and Seamus, but he had a feeling that he’d be hearing about it sooner rather than later.

Ron was putting on his socks, he didn’t say a word to Ron, he simply walked out of the dorm and headed to the common room. Five minutes later, he was staring at a poster that said, “‘GALLONS OF GALLEONS.' Is pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings? Like to earn a little extra gold? Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room, for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs. (We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk.)”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, they are the limit!” Hermione snapped beside him. He smirked at her rage at the Weasley twins.

“We have to talk to them, Harry,” Hermione said to him as his eyes lingered on the poster. She stood on her toes and took down the sign.

“I feel like I’ve missed something here.” He said, not sure what the twins were planning to do.

Hermione suddenly lost her courage, “The twins, they are trying to develop products for their joke shop. Mrs Weasley was livid when she found out about their plans, but Ron and Ginny think its brilliant. But they shouldn’t be hiring anyone to test their products, it could be dangerous.”

He found himself frowning, what else did he miss this summer. Dwelling on it wouldn’t help, so he shook his head just trying to live in the moment, “We’ll talk to them.” He promised, making Hermione smile in agreement.

“Thank you for waiting for me…” Ron came up from behind them and snarked sarcastically.

“We’re waiting here, aren’t we?” He shot back calmly. With that, all three of them walked out of the portrait hole and headed towards the Great Hall.

Hermione was the first one to break the silence, “Why did professor McGonagall call you to her office last night?”

Harry wondered if he should tell her, “She wished to know why I’ve dropped Divinations and chose Ancient Runes and Arithmancy?”

“What?!” Both Ron and Hermione asked loudly.

“You dropped Divinations? Why? It’s the easiest subject there is…” Ron asked confused.

Harry wondered if he should tell her the truth bluntly, or if he should sugar-coat it so as not to hurt Ron’s feelings, but then he remembered that he was still mad at Ron, so he chose the former, “Well, I want a stellar career in the future if I live long enough for that, that is.”

“Don’t say that.” Hermione snapped harshly, “Of course you’re going to live. We’re all going to have a good future.”

“I appreciate your optimism, Hermione. But considering what has happened in the last four years here in school, there’s a good chance Voldemort might kill me long before I graduate.” He replied with his realistic view.

“Don’t say that!” She snapped at him even more harshly.

“Wait a minute, mate.” Ron jumped in feeling offended, “You’re telling me that Divinations is going to keep you from having a career?”

Hermione answered in his stead, trying to shift the conversation from the thoughts of facing death, “Harry’s right. Very few jobs accept a mastery in Divination as a requirement. Remember what Professor McGonagall said in our third year? _Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic._ ”

“I think it's brilliant that Harry has chosen Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, they are a much better option to pursue if you want a successful career.” Hermione added sounding pleased.

“ _You_ would think that,” Ron muttered grumpily.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron had nothing to say to that.

Hermione frowned in thought and then wondered, “I didn’t know you could switch electives in your fifth year?”

Ron looked interested at Hermione’s question, “Yeah, you’ll be two years behind in your coursework, mate.”

“You can’t switch electives in your fifth year.” He divulged bluntly, “I wrote directly to the Examination Authority and requested to write my OWLs in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes along with the others. They must have spoken to Dumbledore, and the headmaster allowed me to switch.”

“Oh…” Ron said unintelligibly, while Hermione looked ecstatic that he was going to be in her classes.

Ron decided to change the topic from electives and examinations, “Can you believe that Seamus?”

He shrugged at Ron, “I’m assuming you both had a row?” He surmised logically.

“Of course, I had a row with that prat. He reckons you’re lying about you-know-who.” Ron said, “He was going on and on about how his mum wouldn’t let him come to school this year. I told him to shut up.”

Harry was now frowning. His own roommate has bought into the Ministry’s smear campaign, his irritation was making his scar hurt, how else was he supposed to feel.

“Yes, Lavender thinks so too.” Hermione added angrily.

He shrugged at them, “If they ask again. Tell them I said to ‘fuck off’.”

“Language, Harry!” Hermione chastised him while Ron grinned.

Just as they entered the Great Hall, a black girl with long braided hair had marched up to Harry.

“Hi, Angelina.” He greeted her.

“Hi, Harry.” She said briskly, “Good summer?”

And without waiting for an answer, she went on, “Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.”

“Head Girl and Quidditch Captain? Nice!” He said enthusiastically, grinning at her; which she returned proudly. He suspected Angelina's pep talks might not be as long-winded as Oliver Wood's had been, which could only be an improvement.

“Thank you, Harry. Well, we need a new Keeper now Oliver's left. Try-outs are on Friday at five o'clock and I want the whole team there, all right? Then we can see how the new person'll fit in.”

He gave her a nod, “Okay.” Angelina smiled at him and departed.

“I'd forgotten Wood had left…” Hermione said vaguely as she sat down beside Ron and pulled a plate of toast towards her. “I suppose that will make quite a difference to the team?”

“I suppose, it would.” Harry replied taking the bench opposite, “He was a good Keeper…”

“Still, it won't hurt to have some new blood, will it?” Ron looked eager for his chance to make it into the team. He just shook his head in amusement at his friend’s enthusiasm.

By the time they finished their breakfast, owls descended on the hall dropping everyone their letters and packages. He didn’t bother distracting himself, Sirius, Remus and Andromeda were the only ones who would write him and he had an alternative method to message them since owls can be intercepted.

Professor McGonagall was now moving along the table handing out timetables.

“Look at today!” Ron groaned, “History of Magic, double Potions, Divination and double Defence Against the Dark Arts… Binns, Snape, Trelawney and that Umbridge woman all in one day!”

“What did you get?” Ron peered over to look at his timetable.

“All of it the same, except instead of Divinations, I have Arithmancy.” He replied as he pulled out the homework planner that Andromeda bought for him and made notes of the subjects, so when they assigned homework, he could note it all down under the subjects.

“Is that a homework planner? I’ve been meaning to get you both one of those…” Hermione said beaming at him in pride.

“Please, don’t,” Ron whined at her.

Hermione ignored Ron and pressed on, “What made you buy one?”

“Aunt Andromeda told me that if I needed Outstandings in all 10 of my OWLs, I needed to plan out my studies.” He replied while remembering his conversation with the overbearing mother-like scary sister figure. He decided not to mention the threat of castration that she had promised him if he got anything less than an Outstanding in all ten subjects. He shuddered at that.

“Who’s Andromeda?” Hermione asked out loud.

“She’s Sir…I mean, Snuffles’ cousin. Snuffles is distantly related to my father, in fact, they both are distant cousins themselves, which makes Snuffles my uncle, and Andromeda my aunt. Her daughter Nymphadora is in the Order as one of the guards.” He explained to Hermione.

“Nymphadora Tonks?” Ron asked wide-eyed.

“Tonks is your cousin?” Hermione asked now curious.

“Very, very distant cousin, but yes.” He replied casually.

Ron now was very interested, “What have you been doing this summer, mate?”

His gaze darkened at that, “Waiting for the both of you to contact me.” He snapped at them, making Ron look sheepish and Hermione look miserable.

Harry sighed and continued, “Anyway, Andromeda wanted to know what I wanted to become since I was going to take my OWLs this year. I had no idea, so she brought me some brochures from a career advisor and explained all my options to me. Grandma Effie told me it was my mum’s dream to be a healer, I don’t want to be an Auror in the Ministry, so I decided that I’ll become a healer. But when I said that I wanted to become a healer, Andromeda told me that if my grades were what they are now, I would never make it. She got me the homework planner and helped me switch electives and all…”

“I like her.” Hermione was beaming at him.

“I thought you might.” He commented back with a smile, “What do you both want to do after Hogwarts?” He inquired them as they left the Great Hall and headed towards the History of Magic classroom.

“I don’t know…” Ron began slowly, “Except…well…” He looked slightly sheepish.

“What?” Harry urged him.

“Well, it'd be cool to be an Auror, I guess…” Ron said in an off-hand voice.

“Yeah, it would.” He agreed, it would be cool to become one, after all his father had been one himself. His problem wasn’t with the job itself; it was with the useless Ministry.

“But they're like, the elite…” Ron fished for some reassurance, “You've got to be really good.”

Harry nodded at Ron, “I think if you work hard, you might be able to make it.” Ron smiled at that and eased a little.

And then he turned towards Hermione, “What about you, Hermione?”

“I don't know.” She said, “I think I'd like to do something worthwhile.”

“An Auror's worthwhile!” Ron said hurriedly.

“Yes, it is, but it's not the only worthwhile thing.” Hermione said thoughtfully, “I mean if I could take SPEW further…” Ron began chuckling at that, making Hermione narrow her eyes at Ron.

Just as Hermione was about to chew Ron out, he decided to intervene, “I think you might be able to start a club and make others join it. I think it’s a good idea.”

“You do?” Hermione asked in disbelief as neither he nor Ron had shown any interest in it before.

“Come on, mate.” Ron chuckled, “You think SPEW is a good idea?”

“I’ll have you know…” Hermione began ranting, but he decided to stop her before she could.

He rolled his eyes at their antics, “If I live past Hogwarts, I’m planning to be a healer Ron. I want to help people like my mum wanted to help others. Elves suffer enough at the hands of wizards and witches; I remember Dobby trying to punish himself. I don’t think any elf should suffer like that. Although the acronym needs work, I think it’s a good idea.”

“Thank you, Harry.” Hermione gave Ron a dirty look, which Ron ignored.

“How come you’re taking her side?” Ron accused hotly.

His patience was wearing thin with their bickering. He gave Ron a look, “I’m saying that her idea has merits. How am I taking her side? Am I not allowed to think that someone else’s ideas have their merits and demerits?” Ron looked peevish but said nothing, just huffed at him as they entered the classroom and took his seat beside Neville.

* * *

Harry used to think that History of Magic was by far the most boring subject ever devised by wizardkind. Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, had a wheezy, droning voice that was almost guaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes, five in warm weather.

Professor Binns never varied the form of their lessons, but lectured them without pausing while they took notes, or rather, gazed sleepily into space. Hermione alone seemed able to resist the soporific power of Binns's voice. Harry heard just enough within the first ten minutes to appreciate that in the hands of another teacher this subject might have been mildly interesting.

That’s why instead of listening to professor Binns drone, he took out a book that explained the giant wars in just as much detail as the professor was droning about, and he began reading it. By the end of an hour and a half, he was done with half the book and he had made notes of it on his own. And then he compared his notes with Hermione’s and found his notes to be lacking in many minute details that made more sense when looking at the bigger picture of history, so he set the bar in his mind and decided to try harder. Hermione seemed thrilled that he was attempting to study harder.

A fine misty drizzle was falling so that the people standing in huddles around the edges of the yard looked blurred at the edges. Harry, Ron and Hermione chose a secluded corner under a heavily dripping balcony, turning up the collars of their robes against the chilly September air. Ron looked refreshed now that he had gotten a nice nap in Binn’s class. Hermione was going over all the things she had read about their potions this year. They were talking about what Snape was likely to set them in the first lesson of the year. They had got as far as agreeing that it was likely to be something extremely difficult, just to catch them off guard after a two-month holiday, when someone walked around the corner towards them.

“Hello, Harry!” It was Cho and, what was more, she was on her own again. This was most unusual: Cho was almost always surrounded by a gang of giggling girls; Harry remembered the agony of trying to get her by herself to ask her to the Yule Ball.

“Hi,” Harry said amiably, ever since his awakening, he had simply lost interest in Cho, but he felt her anxiety and her attraction towards him.

Cho was cute and she was a fine girl, but she no longer made his stomach flutter. After all, he had the memories of all of Selwyn’s wives naked, oh god, just thinking about it almost made him sigh in joy. Agatha was the most beautiful among them all, compared to Agatha’s beauty, Cho was nothing.

“How are you, Harry?” Cho asked simply. The question however had several different aspects to answer, and none of which he wanted to tell her.

“Almost fine, considering all _things_.” He smiled at her and he saw a slight blush in her cheeks, “And you?”

“It was all right, you know…” She drawled off and he nodded at her.

“Is that a Tornados badge?” Ron demanded suddenly, pointing to the front of Cho's robes, where a sky-blue badge emblazoned with a double gold T was pinned. “You don't support them, do you?”

“Yeah, I do.” Cho said defensively, but her eyes told Ron to ‘piss off’.

“Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?” Ron asked in what he considered an unnecessarily accusatory tone.

“I've supported them since I was six.” Cho replied coolly, “Anyway… see you, Harry.”

Cho walked away. Hermione immediately turned to Ron, “You idiot. You’re so tactless.”

“What?” Ron looked apprehensive, “I only asked her if-”

“She was trying to talk to Harry. And you ruined it.” Hermione shot back.

He tuned them out and smirked fondly at their bickering, but he decided to remedy the situation, he turned to Cho who was walking away and he yelled out, “Hey, Cho!”

That stopped Ron and Hermione’s argument, as well as Cho who turned to look at him, he walked into the yard where it was raining and he spoke to her, “Want to go on a date? First Hogsmeade weekend?”

Cho’s eyes widened as she blushed at him cutely, “Y-yes, I’d love that.” She managed to say.

“I’ll see you then.” He said as he backed away and returned to his corner.

Ron for some reason looked happy, but his emotions were in turmoil, he could sense his anxiety and a hint of jealousy. Hermione however was grinning at him, her emotions were happy, but he sensed a hint of longing as well. It made him curious. Both his friends had issues deep within, he made a note in his mind to find out and help them with it.

“Harry, that was brilliant!” Hermione beamed at him.

He however wasn’t as thrilled as her, “I don’t know. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

That got Ron out of his turmoil and he looked curious, “What do you mean? I thought you liked her?”

“I did, but not anymore.” He replied honestly.

Hermione now looked confused, “Then why did you ask her out on a date?”

“Curiosity.” He replied simply, “She was Cedric’s girlfriend. She could have easily hated me if she wanted to, I mean I made it out of the Triwizard maze alive while Cedric didn’t. And Cedric was much smarter, far more handsome and skilled than I was. And yet, she is perfectly friendly with me, and even wants to pursue a relationship with me. It makes me curious; I’d like to know what she sees in me.”

“Harry, you’re smart and handsome and skilled. She would be lucky to go out with you.” Hermione said that as if it was the truth, but he simply shook his head.

“I appreciate the effort, Hermione, but don’t. I know, I’m not god’s best work and I’m fine with it.” He dissuaded her, and continued before she could retort, “Come on, let’s get to class.”

He filed into the classroom behind Ron and Hermione and followed them to their usual table at the back, where he sat down between Ron and Hermione.

“Settle down,” Snape said coldly, shutting the door behind him.

The quiet fell and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.

“Before we begin today's lesson.” Snape said, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, “I think it’s appropriate to remind you that next June you will be taking an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an “Acceptable” in your OWL, or suffer my… displeasure.” His gaze lingered this time on Neville, who gulped.

“After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me.” Snape went on proudly, “I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye.” His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled in a sick smile.

A month ago, he would have glared at the dungeon bat, but he had spent the last month practising thanks to Antonius’s scarce memories which were filled with valuable knowledge and Andromeda’s staunch but effective teachings. Remus had inspired him to excel in potions saying that his mother was unmatched in the field and that if he wanted to be a healer like her, he should make her proud. A week ago, he was barely sleeping four hours a day, drinking pepper-up potions he had prepared himself, and reading potions books under the watchful eyes of Andromeda.

So, he confidently smiled back at the professor, which made Snape sneer. That’s when he felt it, something trying to pierce into his mind. A Legilimency probe, his eyes widened as he realised that Snape was using the eye contact to read his mind. He brought his shields up and told him nonverbally, ‘Go to hell.’ It was his mind and he could think whatever he wanted and there was nothing Snape could do unless he said it out loud.

Snape sneered harder before disengaging, “But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell.” Snape said softly, “…so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.”

“Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level. The Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation.” Harry loved Andromeda at that moment because he had brewed this before. Andromeda was unimpressed by his potioneering skills, and she was completely convinced that Snape was a terrible teacher. She had made him brew potions that were NEWT level and above, she also helped him optimise his chopping techniques, taught him how to correct a potion if he did a step wrong, and instilled in him every possible potion theory she could find. She had also warned him that he better makes her proud, or else.

“Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing.” He took out a parchment and he fished out an antique fountain pen that he had purchased. Writing with quills took time, but with pens, he could conserve time.

On Harry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of utmost attention, “The ingredients and method…” Snape flicked his wand, “…are on the blackboard…you will find everything you need…” Snape flicked his wand again, “…in the store cupboard.” At the wand’s wave, the door of the said cupboard sprang open, “You have an hour and a half…start.”

The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anticlockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.

“A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion.” Snape said, with just ten minutes left to go.

Harry was sweating profusely, he had almost muddled it up by mixing up the fourth step with the fifth, but he had quickly gotten six fire seeds from the cupboard and added them into his cauldron and stirred six times in clockwise to fix it before going on with the sixth step. And now, his potion was emitting a silver vapour as well. He checked on Hermione’s and found that her silver vapours were a shimmering mist, but the vapours in his potion were barely visible. Ron's potion was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they seemed to be going out.

He consoled himself that the loss of the potions’ potency was due to the fire seed, which might have saved the potion, but lost its punch. If someone were to drink his potion, they will have to drink a copious amount of it to feel calm. So, to remedy that problem, he performed the potion-making spell but with a great deal more magic than necessary, which solved it.

Snape swept by Hermione’s without a comment, which means she had nailed it. Snape then looked at his, and then glared at him, and then at Hermione who was beside him, “Next class, you will be paired up with Longbottom.” Snape ordered and left.

“Okay.” He said with an easy-going shrug which made Snape seethe, while he smirked.

“Homework! Twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday!” Snape yelled at the class.

He had placed a vial of his potion with his name neatly placed on it. And a few other security charms on the vial, just in case morons like Malfoy got any ideas.

* * *

Arithmancy class came next. Ron had miserably walked up the Divinations tower after lunch, now that he had dropped Divinations, it meant that Ron had to attend the class alone. Hermione on the other hand was ecstatic that he was attending class with her.

In his past life, Selwyn had gotten a NEWT on Arithmancy and Alchemy. And he had more memories of Selwyn than he had of Sevenhill, he just wished that his most recent incarnate, Lowden was a wizard as well. In any case, Arithmancy was easy. He had always been fairly good at math in school before Hogwarts. He didn’t love the subject as Hermione did, but he found it loads better than Divinations.

Like McGonagall, even Sirius and Remus had been shocked when he had told them that he was dropping Divinations in favour of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. He had after all just awakened his ‘Sight’ and he would become a great seer, but no, he didn’t need Trelawney’s class. He didn’t want to be known as the great seer, he wanted to become a great healer.

Professor Vector came in with a number chart, and the class had begun. He had half-expected professor Vector to call him out, but she hadn’t. She was a professional, like McGonagall. The hour had ended far too soon for his liking.

By the time they left for Defence Against Dark Arts, he was feeling much better. However, that’s when his scar began stinging harshly. He placed the tip of his wand on the scar and he muttered a healing spell. The pain faded away, but not completely. It was there just enough for him to feel it, but not enough to make him snappish at others.

As Hermione was walking, she was nursing her shoulder. That’s when he realised that her bag slung over her shoulder was heavy with a load of books in it. He grabbed the bag and pulled it up effortlessly.

“Harry!” She looked at him angrily.

He simply raised a single brow and he shrugged as he swung the bag over his own shoulder, “Why are you carrying these many books?” Hermione looked unhappy but still breathed in relief as she no longer had to carry the bag, just the books in her arms.

“I need them.” She mumbled at him.

“I suggest you use a ‘feather-light charm’ on it so that you don’t wear yourself down.” He said logically.

Hermione looked at him in surprise, and then she smiled giving a nod of agreement, “That’s a good idea.”

When they entered, the class was quiet; Professor Umbridge was sitting at her desk wearing her pink cardigan that she was wearing yesterday. He walked in taking a seat beside Ron, who brightened instantly. Hermione took a seat on his right, on the bench beside Hannah.

“Well, good afternoon!” Professor Umbridge said when finally, the whole class had sat down. A few people mumbled “good afternoon” in reply.

“Tut, tut…” Professor Umbridge said, “That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply ‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge’.”

“One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!”

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.” They chanted back at her as if they were five years old.

“There, now.” Umbridge said sweetly, “That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please.”

Many of the class exchanged looks; the order 'wands away' had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Harry slipped his wand into his wand holster on his wrist. Sirius had bought it for him, he opened his bag and pulled out his pen and parchment. Ron gave him a look about his holster and the pen, but he gave Ron a look that said, ‘I’ll explain later.’

Professor Umbridge picked up her wand from the table and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once.

‘Defence Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles’

“Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?” Professor Umbridge said more than she asked turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her.

“The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your studies being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year.”

“You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please.”

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by the 'Course Aims', and under it was three topics.

‘Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.’

‘Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.’

‘Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.’

For a couple of minutes, the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three-course aims she asked, “Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?”

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class. “I think we'll try that again.” Professor Umbridge said, “When I ask you a question, I expect you to reply, ‘Yes, Professor Umbridge’ or ‘No, Professor Umbridge’.”

“So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?”

“Yes, Professor Umbridge.” The class said in unison.

“Good. Turn to page five and read, ‘Chapter One, Basics for Beginners’. There will be no need to talk.”

Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them all closely with those pouchy toad's eyes. Harry turned to page five of his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read.

It was dull, quite as bad as listening to Professor Binns. Within minutes, he was done with the page, and he was gone to the next, but then he furrowed his eyes and he flipped back to read again. Several silent minutes passed. There was nothing of any worth on the first page, so he continued to the second page and went on. He calmed his mind and slipped into his ‘Sight’ to read better.

Next to him, Ron was absent-mindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, staring at the same spot on the page. Harry looked right and received a surprise to shake him out of his torpor. Hermione had not even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air.

He could not remember an instance when Hermione ever neglected to read when instructed to, or indeed resisting the temptation to open any book that came under her nose. He looked at her enquiringly, but she merely shook her head slightly to indicate that she was not about to answer questions now, and continued to stare at Professor Umbridge, who was looking just as resolutely in another direction.

After several more minutes had passed, however, Harry was not the only one watching Hermione. The chapter they had been instructed to read was so tedious that more and more people were choosing to watch Hermione's mute attempt to catch Professor Umbridge's eye rather than struggle with the chapter. When more than half the class started staring at Hermione rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer.

“Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?” She asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.

“Not about the chapter, no.” Hermione replied.

“Well, we're reading now.” Umbridge said showing her small pointed teeth, “If you have other queries, we can deal with them at the end of class.”

“I've got a query about your course aims,” Hermione said undeterred. Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows at that, “And your name is?” She asked.

“Hermione Granger,” Hermione said confidently.

“Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are clear if you read them through carefully.” Professor Umbridge replied in a voice of determined sweetness.

“Well, I don't…” Hermione said bluntly, “There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells.” There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three-course aims still written on the blackboard.

“Using defensive spells?” Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh, “Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?”

“We're not going to use magic?” Ron exclaimed loudly.

“Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr…?” Umbridge said sharply.

“Weasley,” Ron said immediately thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Hermione immediately raised her hand too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Hermione for a moment before she addressed Hermione.

“Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?”

“Yes…” Hermione continued, “Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?”

“Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?” Professor Umbridge asked with a glinting grin.

Harry’s senses were going haywire, through his ‘Sight’ he felt the woman’s intent to harm. This woman was seriously considering cursing Hermione for her cheek. He slowly pulled his wand out of the holster on his wrist and placed the tip of his wand at the centre of his palm. If a situation arose, he would teach Umbridge a lesson, but until then he would keep the promises he made to Dumbledore, Sirius and Remus to keep his head down.

“No, but…”

“Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the ‘whole point’ of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way.”

Now several other people had their hands up, too. “And your name is?” Professor Umbridge asked Dean while standing up from her seat and circling the table to come before the whole class.

“Dean Thomas.”

“Well, Mr Thomas?”

“If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free.”

“I repeat, Mr Thomas.” Umbridge said still with her irritating smile at Dean, “Do you expect to be attacked during my classes?”

“No, but…”

Professor Umbridge talked over him, “I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run in this school...” She said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, “…but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed. Not to mention, an extremely dangerous half-breed.”

At that, Harry’s temper flared and his scar began to hurt. She had insulted Remus; she was going to pay. His gaze fixed on the junctions of the legs of Umbridge’s chair, “Incisio…” He muttered inaudibly.

“If you mean Professor Lupin.” Dean piped up angrily, “He was the best we ever…”

“Hand, Mr Thomas! As I was saying, you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day.”

“No, we haven't.” Hermione snapped, “…we just…”

“Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!” Hermione put up her hand immediately but Umbridge turned away from her.

“It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you.”

“Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?” Dean said hotly, “Mind you, we still learned loads.”

“Your hand is not up, Mr Thomas!” Umbridge trilled, “Now, it is the view of the Ministry that theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examinations, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?” She added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.

“Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?”

“As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions.” Umbridge spoke dismissively.

“Without ever practising them beforehand?” Parvati asked incredulously, “Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?”

“I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Hands went up one by one, and minutes passed as Umbridge answered them in her deflecting and selective way. Hermione and Ron kept giving him curious glances as to why he wasn’t objecting to this woman. He simply shrugged his shoulders at them, while attentively listening to Umbridge’s patience wear out thinner and thinner.

“Enough! All of you!” She said sternly, no more sweet mocking smiles, “The Ministry has decided that this is the best way to train you all. No more questions for today. You will read your first chapter and take notes.”

With that, Umbridge walked around the table and took her seat. ‘CRASH!’ The chair broke and she fell on her arse, hitting her chin on the table as she went down.

“HAHAHA…!!!” The entire class broke out in laughter, making the toad-like woman fume red as she had trouble getting up. The volume climbed as she stood up and stumbled again, her chin bruised badly. And then it slowly went down to silence when the woman looked furious.

“Detention! To all of you!” She screamed, and the uproar broke out as everyone in the class stood up and began a screaming match at the woman, while he grinned in contented triumph. He was after all the prodigal son of the Marauders, he had a duty to make them proud.

Harry mused to himself thoughtfully, ‘We’ll see, Umbridge. We’ll see.’

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s the next chapter done. Excerpts pulled from the book itself. As I said, things in the canon would go on for a while, before full divergence. I hope you like this chapter. Feedbacks are always appreciated.


	8. Week One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter, JKR does…  
> Thank you for reading this story and supporting it. The support helps me write more.  
> I hope you liked the last chapter. Feedbacks are much appreciated.

* * *

They had two Defence Against Dark Arts classes. With the first one interrupted by the prank on Umbridge, the second one had turned into a class-wide inspection of their wands. Snape who had come hearing the commotion had assisted Umbridge in using the Priori Incantatem to check all their wands for the spell that had caused her chair to break. He was thankful that due to his ego, he had not used his wand and instead trained his wandless magic by casting the spell.

And then McGonagall had arrived at the scene, she had claimed that Umbridge cannot put an entire class in detention for what could have been one student’s misdemeanour. But then, the Reverse Spell had failed to produce the identity of the culprit. Snape had tried to pin the blame on him, but he had simply produced his wand again for inspection and the reverse spell once again showed nothing, so they had no proof. When Umbridge had suggested a binding Oath of truth to every student, McGonagall had overruled her with her authority as the deputy headmistress, claiming that they were students and not criminals.

He had used the remaining time to practice and train until dinner. They had just finished dinner and he was finishing up his Potions homework when the portrait hole opened and Ron and Hermione entered the common room to join him.

“What are you doing, mate?” Ron asked as he gave a querying look on the open books and spare parchments lying around him on the floor where he was sitting.

“Homework.” He said not taking his eyes off the book.

“Is that Snape’s stuff?” Ron asked and he gave a nod, “Wait, I’ll get my parchments. I can copy it from yours.” With that, Ron ran up the stairs without waiting for him to reply.

Hermione on the other was now giving him dirty looks, “What?” He asked exasperatedly.

“Don’t you dare let him copy your work.” She said stiffly.

“Why not?” He deflated a little and asked with a tired smile.

“He will never learn how to do this on his own if he copied it from you.” She sighed as she put her bag on the floor beside him and sat opposing him.

“Hermione, I appreciate your intent, but you can’t force him to change, not when he isn’t willing to change himself.” He sighed at her.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, “But you can’t keep encouraging him either, Harry.”

That made him think. She was right, he can’t keep enabling him, and she can’t keep trying to force him. So, it brought the question of what to do.

“What do you think we should do?” Harry asked her.

Hermione had the same thought as him, “I don’t know…, but I intend to find out.”

“Then please do.”

They fell into silence as he finished his potions homework and opened his homework planner to see that his Arithmancy homework was next. He picked up the Arithmancy book he had brought from home and he opened the chart that professor Vector had handed to the class. He began comparing the notes in the book with the chart trying to make sense of it. That’s when he remembered something.

“Oh, and I spoke to the Twins. They have agreed not to test their products on first-years, they will keep it strictly on the older students.” Hermione beamed at him.

“How did you get them to agree?” She asked him.

He shrugged unconvincingly, “I’ve always had considerable sway over them.”

“I wonder why?” Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

This time he kept his poker face, “It’s always been that way.” But it only made Hermione even more suspicious as she narrowed her eyes even further. He wasn’t going to tell them that he had given them the Triwizard winnings for their joke shop, he didn’t need a jealous Ron and an angry Hermione breathing down his neck.

Thankfully, Ron returned with his parchments and quill and ink, breaking the tension. Ron sat beside him and wasted no time as he began writing fervently, while Hermione groaned in frustration.

“For heaven’s sake, Ron. The books Harry used to write about the Moonstones are right in front of you. Read it for once and write the homework on your own!” Hermione nearly screamed at Ron.

But Ronald Weasley was an expert at ignoring things he rather not wished to hear, “It’ll take too long.” He had mumbled back.

“Harry! Say something!” She snapped at him.

Ron gave him a look, clearly wondering if he would really say something. Harry remembered the promise he had made to McGonagall, he would not let Ron rub off on him, which means he had to say something, so he sighed, “I agree with her. The books are right here.” He placed his hand on the book with the page on Moonstones still open.

“You too?” Ron asked incredulously.

“Hmmm…” Harry thought, how was he supposed to spin this in a way that would make Ron study, “What if they asked you to write about Moonstones in the final? How will you know what to write if you copied it without reading about it?”

Ron however wasn’t the least bit alarmed, “I’ll read it later.” Ron said confidently as he went back to writing again.

Meanwhile, Hermione glared at him for giving up too easily. He decided that he had enough of this, “Hermione, if you want to make him read, then you find a way. Until then, this topic is off the discussion.”

With the same intensity, he turned to Ron, “Listen, mate. If you want to copy my homework, fine. But read three pages, and I’ll give it to you.” He said before pulling his parchment away and rolling it before putting it in his bag. Ron glared at him, and then glared at Hermione before grumbling and taking the book before him to give it a read. Hermione looked mildly satisfied, Ron looked tense and he sighed tiredly.

Ten minutes later, Ron had glanced over the three pages and was now briskly copying his homework once again, making Hermione glare at him again, while he simply shrugged his shoulders saying that he didn’t care as long as Ron had done what he had asked him to.

Hermione stared down at her half-done History of Magic homework on her parchment for a few seconds, then said edgily, “Oh, it's no good, I can't concentrate now. I'm going to bed.”

She wrenched her bag open; he thought she was about to put her books away, but instead, she pulled out two misshapen woolly objects, placed them carefully on a table by the fireplace, covered them with a few screwed-up bits of parchment and a broken quill and stood back to admire the effect.

“What in the name of Merlin are you doing?” Ron asked her, watching her as though he was fearful for her sanity.

“They're hats for house-elves.” She said briskly, now stuffing her books back into her bag, “I did them over the summer. I'm a really slow knitter without magic but now I'm back at school I should be able to make lots more.”

“You're leaving out hats for the house-elves?” Ron was now suspicious, “And you're covering them up with rubbish first?”

“Yes,” Hermione replied defiantly, swinging her bag on to her back.

“That's not…” Ron began angrily, “You're trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You're setting them free when they might not want to be free.”

“Of course, they want to be free!” Hermione said at once, though her face was turning pink. “Don't you dare touch those hats, Ron!” She then turned on her heel to leave.

“I wouldn't bother.” Ron told her cuttingly, “They might not even count as clothes. They didn't look anything like hats to me, more like woolly bladders.” Hermione gave them both a glare that chilled him and she left fuming.

Ron waited until she had disappeared through the door to the girls' dormitories, then cleared the rubbish off the woolly hats, “They should at least see what they're picking up.” Ron said as he sat back down and continued on his homework.

Meanwhile, he simply smirked at their antics fondly and shook his head in amusement, as he worked on his Arithmancy homework.

* * *

_Next morning…_

“You cannot pass an OWL…” Professor McGonagall said grimly, “…without serious application, practice and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an OWL in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work.”

Neville made a sad little disbelieving noise, “Yes, you too, Longbottom.” Professor McGonagall continued, “There's nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence. So…today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until NEWT level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL.”

She was quite right; Harry found the Vanishing Spells to be tricky, the wand movements were the problem, the incantation and intent seemed fine. By the end of a double period, he barely managed to vanish the snail on which he was practising, though Ron said hopefully he thought his snail looked a bit paler. Hermione, on the other hand, successfully vanished her snail on the third attempt, earning her a ten-point bonus for Gryffindor from Professor McGonagall. She was the only person not given homework; everybody else was told to practise the spell overnight, ready for a fresh attempt on their snails the following afternoon.

Still angry about Ron's slur on her woolly hats, Hermione did not speak to them all day. By the time they reached Care of Magical Creatures in the afternoon, Harry's head was aching again, and his scar hurting.

The day had become cool and breezy, and as they walked down the sloping lawn towards Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they felt the occasional drop of rain on their faces. Professor Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid's front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with twigs. As Harry and Ron reached her, a loud shout of laughter sounded behind them; turning, they saw Draco Malfoy striding towards them, surrounded by his usual gang of Slytherin cronies. He had clearly just said something highly amusing, because Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson and the rest continued to snigger heartily as they gathered around the trestle table and, judging by the way they all kept looking over at Harry, he was able to guess the subject of the joke without too much difficulty.

“Everyone here?” Professor Grubbly-Plank barked, once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived, “Let's crack on then. Who can tell me what these things are called?”

She indicated the heap of twigs in front of her. Hermione's hand shot into the air. The twigs on the table leapt into the air and revealed themselves to be what looked like tiny pixie-ish creatures made of wood, each with knobbly green arms and legs, two twiglike fingers at the end of each hand and a funny flat, bark-like face in which a pair of beetle-brown eyes glittered.

“So, does anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?”

“Bowtruckles…” Hermione replied with enthusiasm, “They're tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees.”

“Five points for Gryffindor.” Professor Grubbly-Plank awarded her, “Yes, these are Bowtruckles, and as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?”

“Woodlice.” Hermione promptly said, “But fairy eggs if they can get them.”

“Good girl, take another five points. So, whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a Bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of woodlice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will try to gouge at human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So, if you'd like to gather closer, take a few woodlice and a Bowtruckle. I have enough here for one between three, so you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body-parts labelled by the end of the lesson.”

Harry subtly allowed magic to flow as he felt his Inner Eye gleam open at the Bowtruckle. He took a closer look and memorised every single detail of the creature before him. Ever since his Awakening, sketching had become easier, so had his handwriting which had improved for the better, he didn’t know why. None of his previous lives he could remember had any interest in drawing or painting, which made him wonder if this was due to one of the lives he did not remember?

He sat down and began drawing, as Ron held the Bowtruckle feeding it woodlice for Hermione and him to draw. By the end of the lesson, he finished his sketch with lifelike detail before everyone else, and all those who hadn’t finished were given it as homework. Professor Grubbly-Plank went through his sketch closely and then nodded, “Good work, Mr Potter. Three points for Gryffindor.”

* * *

_Next-Day…_

The day ended with Astronomy, where Professor Sinistra had asked them to write about the constellation Orion in the next class.

Ron rolled his neck tiredly beside him, “Can you believe the homework we got? We have to practice Vanishing Spells for McGonagall, the counter-charm for Flitwick, the essay for Sprout, the dream diary for Trelawney, the questions on Bowtruckle for Plank and now this essay on Jupiter’s Moons for Sinistra. I think I might go mad.”

“How far along have you gotten?” Ron turned to him expectantly.

“I’ve got the hang of the Vanishing spells, both of them, and I’ve not even started the essay on the Inanimatus Conjurus Spell for McGonagall. I didn’t get the proper handling techniques of Bowtruckles essay from Plank since I finished the drawing during class. I have yet to work on Flitwick’s counter-charm. I finished professor Sprout’s self-fertilizing shrubs essay last night…”

Ron interrupted him at that, “You did? When?”

“After the prefects' rounds, I was up past two last night, Ron.” He said with a yawn.

Ron glanced at Hermione and then whispered to him, “Could I maybe borrow it tonight?”

Hermione however surmised Ron’s question and stepped in, “Don’t you dare, Ronald Weasley!”

“Oh, why not?” Ron protested.

“Why haven’t _you_ been doing it? What did you do last night?” She separated him and Ron by pushing them aside and taking her place between him and Ron to make sure that Ron could not whisper to him again.

“I-I _fancied_ a walk last night.” Ron was shite at lying and it showed.

“A _walk_?” She asked suspiciously.

“Yes, a walk! What of it? Can’t I enjoy a walk now and then?” Ron snapped at her to which Hermione huffed at them both.

As they walked out of the Astronomy tower and towards the corridor, Harry turned right instead of left.

“Where are you going, mate?” Ron asked not particularly interested.

“I have some work in the library, I’ll meet you both in the Great Hall for dinner.” Harry said to dissuade Ron and Hermione from following, but he realised his mistake the moment he said it. Hermione jumped on the opportunity to go to the library.

“I’ll come with you.” Hermione quickly changed directions and walked towards him.

Ron however shrugged at them, “I’ll pass. I want to go for a _walk_.”

As Ron walked away, he and Hermione went down towards the library, as they were waiting for the staircase, they were standing on to finish arranging itself, Hermione turned to him, “Where were you really planning on going?”

“I have no idea what you’re talk-…”

“Stop it, Harry. I’ve known you for four years now, Ron may be oblivious, but I can tell when you’re lying. You went to the library after potions today, I know because I was there.” Hermione surmised giving him a piercing look.

“What I do with my time is my business, Hermione.” He said curtly, not wishing to elaborate.

Hermione bit her lip at that, “Do you really not trust us anymore?”

“Uhh…” He groaned because he didn’t want to answer that question.

Hermione had always been with him, even last year when Ron had doubted him about his name in the goblet of fire, she had believed him. That was why when she hadn’t contacted him all summer, it hurt. But she had earned his trust ten times over than what she had lost.

“Fine.” He muttered and he took a deep breath and exhaled before saying, “I’m going to meet professor Flitwick.”

“Professor Flitwick? Why?” Hermione was now confused.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and then shrugged, “I was going to ask him to teach me how to duel properly.”

Hermione stepped forward and fully turned to face him, stopping him from going any forward, “Duelling?”

“Voldemort’s back, Hermione. And he’s doing who knows what. The next time I face him, I want to be prepared. At least prepared enough to survive the encounter.”

She frowned at him, “You survived once, you could...”

He interrupted her, “I survived because of luck, not skill or strength, but pure luck. I’m not leaving my fate to luck again. If I’m going to die, I’m going to die fighting.”

“You’re not going to die!” She said determinedly, “Dumbledore would never let that happen.”

“Four years in this school, Hermione. Think of the things we have gone through together. No one else in our class can even scarcely imagine it even if they wanted to. We should know better by now. Dumbledore’s protection has its limits.”

Hermione deflated at that, she opened her mouth to retort, but couldn’t because she knew it was true. Seeing the logic, she finally acquiesced to his statement with a nod, “I think it’s good to be prepared.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you think professor Flitwick would grant you your request? Is he even allowed to? Teachers aren’t supposed to be partial to any individual student.” Hermione wondered mostly to herself rather than at him.

“Tell that to Snape about Malfoy.” Harry snarked at her with a smile.

She turned to him and frowned, making him add, “I have a plan. Sirius told me that my mother was apprenticed to professor Flitwick from her sixth year. And that any student from fifth-year or up can be apprenticed to a professor if the professor chose to take them as one. It’s rarely done these days since it’s a large responsibility for the professors to undertake atop their tight schedule, but it’s still possible. Which would allow them to teach us whatever syllabus they think we ought to know.”

Hermione’s eyes gleamed, “Apprenticeship. I don’t remember reading that anywhere, is it true?”

“Apparently, it is. Remus and Andromeda advised me to ask the headmaster for an apprenticeship. It was a good plan, but I wasn’t so sure about that. Considering the smear campaign, the Ministry has started against me and Dumbledore, I don’t think adding more fuel to a fire is a good way to go about this.”

Hermione however was scarcely listening to him, he could see her mind working, almost hear her thinking, “I think it's brilliant. Apprenticeship.”

“What are you thinking?” He cooed at her as if she was a child, shaking her out of her stupor.

“Nothing.” She quickly recovered, not doing her best to hide her plans.

His eyes narrowed with a wide smile etched on his face, “You’re thinking of asking some professor to take you as an apprentice, aren’t you?”

“No…” She drawled while kept giving him glances, doing a shrug of her shoulders that she hoped would convince him, but it only made her sound more guilty.

“Yes, you are…” His eyes widened, “Who is it? McGonagall? Vector? Babbling?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him annoyed, “Will you stop?”

He grinned at her knowingly, “Fine.”

The staircase arranged itself finally and they began walking down again. “And Harry…” She called him when they reached the corridor below.

“Mmm…” He replied distractedly.

“You’re really working hard in class, I’m proud of you.” She said to him with a beaming smile, and he brightened at that, “Just don’t close your heart to us again.”

He thought for a moment. He wanted to tell her, but he also felt like not telling her.

“Hermione. For the past few days, I’ve done nothing but try to open up to you both. Change isn’t easy, Hermione.”

He saw her swallow a lump in her throat, “Harry, I am sorry about this summer. I will never cut off contact again like that, ever. I promise.”

“I know something else happened this summer, you’re different…in a good way.” She quickly added, “I hope you’ll tell me one day.”

“I’ll see you at dinner.” He said contemplating her words.

“I’ll see you, Harry.”

Hermione walked down and headed towards the library, while he turned on his heel and went towards Ravenclaw tower.

It took him a few minutes to reach Flitwick’s office. The Ravenclaw students who passed him by on the way up to the tower all stared at him either incriminatingly or appreciatively, although the number of glares far outweighed looks of awe.

He knocked on their charms professor’s door twice and he heard the voice, “Come in.”

He opened the door a little and he stuck his head in, “Professor Flitwick, do you have a moment?” It’s only when he finished, did he see professor Sprout and professor Babbling in the room chatting with the half-goblin charms professor.

“Yes, Mr Potter.” The charms professor signalled him in.

Seeing the two other professors, he realised that making his case now would be difficult. Another part of him argued that he shouldn’t waste this opportunity. He quickly reviewed the facts. As he was now, he would never be able to survive against Voldemort unless he had a ridiculous amount of luck on his hands, which was something he wasn’t counting on to save his life. But asking for an apprenticeship when he’s not even among the best students in the class might seem like he’s using his fame to get ahead, which he did not wish for in the least. He quickly decided against asking for an apprenticeship until he proved that he was apprentice material.

Professor Flitwick ushered him to sit on an empty chair, “Sit, sit…”

The room was oval in shape, painted in a shade of lemon yellow. A large fireplace on the right side, a large window opposite the door and a table overlooking the window. Books were stacked all around the room, and on the shelves were trophies, gold and silver, however, there were far too many golden trophies than silver.

The charms professor immediately handed him a small plate with a cupcake on it. He took a bite and it was delicious, but professor Babbling’s eyes trained on him did not help ease his tension.

“Professor?” He called and the half-goblin charms expert turned to him, “Yes, Mr Potter.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Could you teach me how to duel?” He asked not wishing to beat around the bush.

The charm caster gave him a piercing look for a long moment until it faded, “I could. I would suggest that you join the duelling club. You will gain much.”

The duelling club that Lockhart formed in his second year was still active, professor Flitwick supervised it nowadays.

Harry decided to clarify, “Professor, I wish to survive an encounter against Voldemort if possible. I don’t think I’ll gain enough from the club.” All three professors averted their eyes at the name.

“Professor, I don’t know if you believe me, frankly, I don’t care. I just need oversight and advice from a master.”

It was professor Sprout that replied to him, “We’ve known the headmaster for a long time, Mr Potter. We do not put much stock into the rubbish that Prophet prints. If Albus believes that you-know-who has come back, we believe him.” Professor Babbling nodded in agreement and so did professor Flitwick.

Professor Flitwick said in agreement, “I concur with Pomona. I think I might be able to help you, Mr Potter.”

The half-goblin charms master fished out a slip from one of his books on the table. Took his quill and dipped the tip in ink and brushed his signature on the slip.

“This is your pass to use the library’s forbidden section, Mr Potter. Use it wisely.” Flitwick gave him and he took it thankfully.

However, the professor took a piece of parchment and started scribbling something. After a few minutes of diligent writing with professors Babbling and Sprout pointing out a few names and a few suggestions, all of which professor Flitwick weighed in his mind and finished a list.

“These are the books you must refer to. This will help you get started.” Professor handed him the list and he took it glancing at the names of the books.

“Thank you, professor.” He smiled and stood up.

“If you have any doubts, Mr Potter. My door is always open.”

“Thank you, sir.” Harry gave a nod of gratitude.

With that, he left the office, putting the list and the pass in the inner pocket of his robes. As he was descending down the stairs, he mused. He had gone in there hoping for the worst and he was pleasantly surprised that he had gotten a firm direction to follow.

* * *

Ever since his ‘Awakening’, his centre of balance was astounding. He had more control over his movements, more flexibility and he was warier of his surroundings, in tune with his senses. He was sitting sideways on his Firebolt, hovering over the pitch watching Ron and four others at the try-outs, listening to Angelina’s instructions. Hermione had declined the invitation to come and watch, she didn’t give them a reason, but he knew it must be important.

Alicia came in fast, flying right at him, at the last moment she turned while throwing the quaffle at him, he shifted in his seat a little and he caught the ball effortlessly, he quickly passed it in a throw to Fred, and he focused back on Ron.

A few minutes later, the try-outs began, as he, Fred, George, Alicia and Angelina all began flying at speed, intimidating the keeper. They flew in a v-formation and Angelina passed the quaffle to him, he flew true to the centre ring but instead of throwing it at the rings, he threw it upwards. George swooped in and backhanded the ball, sending it at the ring on the far right. Bridget failed to save it by inches. And then, they reset the pitch, changing positions and trying formations.

Each Keeper candidate was given five opportunities to defend. Bridget Henwick was a fourth-year, she looked nervous, she missed three and only saved two. Vicky Frobisher saved all five. Geoffrey Hooper saved all five. Ron managed to save four, lost one. And Glenn Mallory, the pompous git missed three and saved twice, flying away from the pitch fuming.

Bridget Henwick left dejectedly when Angelina barked that she needed confident players. The second round of try-outs continued with Geoffrey, Vicky and Ron. Malfoy and his cronies came along to the pitch and started hurling insults at Ron and the others. That certainly swayed the players, a little, Vicky and Geoffrey being older quickly composed themselves, but Ron failed.

They played again. This time, he, Katie and Alicia were together playing defence, while Angelina, Fred and George played offence. It took them nearly an hour, but the try-outs ended when all three had their ten chances. Ron defended seven times, just as many times as Geoffrey, but Vicky was clearly better than the others, she saved nine times and only lost once.

In the end, Angelina decided to choose their new Keeper. As they all undressed and redressed in the changing room and set out towards the castle, Ron came running towards them, “I’m in. I’m in. I’m a Keeper!”

And then the partying began. The twins had expected Ron to make it into the team, and they had smuggled in bottles of Butterbeer.

Halfway through the party, Ron began drowning in Butterbeer and began telling a group of third-years his great tales of how he made Keeper. Harry smiled at the boisterous boy he considered a friend and he enjoyed the party in silence. His gaze fell on Hermione who was dozing off in an armchair by the fire, her drink tipping precariously in her hand. He smiled at that as well.

His scar was hurting, since the try-outs. As much as he wished to distract himself, he couldn’t because the pain reminded him that all these good times were about to come to an end soon. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to that graveyard, to the rolling images of Voldemort being resurrected.

Angelina came striding up to Harry and took a seat beside him, butterbeer in hand, her eyes fixed on Ron.

“Look, I know he's your best mate, but he's not fabulous.” She said bluntly, “I think with a bit of training he'll be all right, though. He comes from a family of good Quidditch players. I'm banking on him turning out to have a bit more talent than he showed today, to be honest. Vicky Frobisher and Geoffrey Hooper both flew better this evening, but Hooper’s a real whiner, he's always moaning about something or other, and Vicky's involved in all sorts of societies. She admitted herself that if training clashed with her Charms Club, she'd put Charms first. Anyway, we're having a practice session at two o'clock tomorrow, so just make sure you're there this time. And do me a favour and help Ron as much as you can, OK?”

Harry gave her a nod of confidence, and Angelina strolled back to Alicia Spinnet. He moved over to sit next to Hermione, who awoke with a jerk.

“Oh, Harry, it's you…good about Ron, isn't it?” She asked blearily, “I'm just s-so…so tired.” She yawned, “I was up until one o'clock making more hats. They're disappearing like mad!”

And sure enough, now that he paid a closer look, Harry saw that there were woolly hats concealed all around the room where unwary elves might accidentally pick them up.

“Good for you.” He chuckled at her, “Although, I don’t think your plan to free the elves is a sound strategy though.”

Now that brought her out of her sleepiness near-instantly, her eyes narrowed at him, “I thought you supported my idea.”

“I do.” He said, “I think SPEW is a good idea. The name definitely needs work, but it’s a good goal to have. But I think, you’re going about this the wrong way.”

“What do you mean?” She asked in mild interest, she was still happy that she had someone to support her goal.

“I tricked Lucius Malfoy into freeing Dobby because Dobby wished to be free. The elves here in Hogwarts are happy already, you can’t free them and expect them to be happy.”

“But its slavery, Harry!” She tried to snap at him, but she was too tired that it came out as a moan.

“I am aware, Hermione.” He replied soothingly, “But we need to research more and find out why they wish to be in servitude and try to explain to them that freedom is better.”

Hermione smiled at him, “I’d love your help, Harry.”

“Fine, I’m in.”

Now that was out of the way, he began, “My scar’s been hurting. On and off all summer. What do you think it is?”

She gave him a curious look, “Is it hurting now?” He gave her a nod.

“On a scale of one to five, how would you rate your pain?” She asked.

“Three?” He said, “Yes, three…”

She who was resting her back on the chair sat up and asked, “Is the pain more than a slight irritation? How would you describe it?”

“Yes.” He said taking a breath to think, “Piercing…as if something is stabbing me from the inside out.”

“How are you keeping your calm?” She asked mildly astonished that he was sitting there with that much pain.

“I’m used to the pain.” He shrugged, “And my Occulumency barriers are up.”

“Occulumency? As in mind magic?” She asked now fully interested, “When did you learn that?”

“This summer. Remus said I needed to learn it. Andromeda gave me a few basic lessons on how to get started, it was surprisingly easy to learn.”

Hermione was now in deep thought, “Harry, I think you ought to tell Dumbledore that your scar is hurting.”

“No, Dumbledore has enough on his mind.” He said, not elaborating his arrangement with the headmaster.

Hermione sighed at him, “Harry, you have to…”

He interrupted her, “Trust me on this, will you?” She pouted at him and then huffed.

He got to his feet. “I'm going to bed. Tell Ron for me, will you?”

“Oh no.” Hermione said looking relieved, “If you're going that means I can go too, without being rude. I'm absolutely exhausted and I want to make some more hats tomorrow. Listen, you can help me if you like, it's quite fun, I'm getting better, I can do patterns and bobbles and all sorts of things now.”

Harry looked into her face, which was shining with glee, and tried to look as though he was vaguely tempted by this offer.

“Knitting? Do I have to?” He grimaced.

She crossed her arms, “You don’t _have_ to. You could help me if you _want_ to.”

He knew that she was trying to guilt him into helping out, but he wasn’t very keen on it, “I don’t know how to knit. I’ll have to learn it from scratch.”

By now, Hermione spoke as if she was convinced that he was learning with her, “We can learn together. It’s a good skill to have under your sleeve.”

Harry wanted to groan, but he caught himself from slipping, “Where am I ever going to use knitting techniques on?”

At that, Hermione’s smirk grew wider into a grin, almost as if he had fallen into her trap, “You said you wanted to be a healer. If you knew how to knit quickly, you could do stitches easily. Who knows how good you can become if you could stitch quickly with precision?”

She had turned his argument on him, he was now aware that there was no way out of this. “Fine.” He grumbled glumly, as he turned on his spot and he traipsed off to the boys' stairs, leaving her to grin victoriously.

* * *

_Saturday…_

Making straight for his favourite squashy old armchair beside the now extinct fire, Harry settled himself down comfortably and unrolled his parchment while looking around the room. The debris that usually covered the common room at the end of each day was gone, as were all of Hermione's woolly hats. Wondering vaguely how many elves had now been set free whether they wanted to be or not. Harry took his fountain pen, then held it suspended an inch above the smooth yellowish surface of his parchment, thinking hard…but after a minute or so he found himself staring into the empty grate, at a complete loss for what to say.

He sat quite motionless for a while, gazing into the fireplace, and then, finally coming to a decision, he dipped his quill into the ink bottle once more and set it resolutely on the parchment.

_Dear Snuffles,_

_Hope you're OK, the first week back here's been awfully busy, I'm really glad it's the weekend. We've got a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. She's nearly as nice as your mum. I have a few concerns about the connection we discussed this summer. I’ll have ‘it’ ready for tonight at twelve._

_Best,_

_Harry_

The sun was high in the sky by the time he entered the Owlery. The straw-covered floor crunched a little as he stepped across tiny animal bones, craning his neck for a sight of Hedwig.

“There you are.” He said, spotting her somewhere near the very top of the vaulted ceiling. “Get down here, I've got a letter for you.”

With a low hoot, she stretched her great white wings and soared down on to his shoulder.

“Right, I know this says Snuffles on the outside.” He told her, giving her the letter to clasp in her beak and, without knowing exactly why, whispering, “But it's for Sirius, OK?”

She blinked her amber eyes once and he took that to mean that she understood.

“Safe flight, then.” He said and he carried her to one of the windows; with a moment's pressure on his arm, Hedwig took off into the blindingly bright sky. He watched her until she became a tiny black speck and vanished.

Harry heard footsteps at the Owlery’s doorway, he turned to see Cho Chang holding a letter and a parcel in her hands.

“Hi.” He said automatically.

“Oh…hi.” She said breathlessly, a slight blush on her cheeks, “I didn't think anyone would be up here this early…I only remembered five minutes ago, it's my mum's birthday.” She held up the parcel for him to see.

“Right. Wish her a happy birthday for me.” He said lamely, not knowing what to say to her, he didn’t know anything about spending his mother’s birthday, and his past lives weren’t very close to their parents either, except maybe Lowden.

“Will do.” She said and selected one of the school barn owls. She coaxed it down on to her arm where it held out an obliging leg so that she could attach the parcel.

“It’s a nice day today.” He said, gesturing to the windows.

“Yeah.” Cho said as she let the owl fly from the window, “Good Quidditch conditions. I haven't been out all week, have you?”

He gave her a nod, “Yesterday, evening.”

“Hey, has Gryffindor got a new Keeper yet?” She asked now interested.

“Yes.” He said, “It's my friend Ron Weasley.”

“The Tornados-hater?” Cho asked rather casually, “Is he any good?”

“Yes, he is.” He replied honestly, “We’ll still need to practice to get the team functioning at full again.”

“Takes time, I guess.” Cho nodded in understanding, “Umm…have you decided where to go on our first date?”

“I had a few ideas. But do you have any suggestions?” Cho beamed at him when he asked her.

She was now blushing, “Have you ever been to Madam Puddifoot's?”

The name did not ring a bell, he shook his head, “I haven’t.”

Cho grabbed his arm and said dreamily, “Oh, you’ll love it.”

“I’m sure, I will.” He said before making his move. He slid his hand by the side of her neck, his thumb settling right under her earlobe, he leaned in capturing her lips with a tender brush of his own with a slight tilt of his head.

Cho closed her eyes, feeling herself being pushed against the doorframe as he laid claim of her lips as his own. She felt his other arm snaking behind her hip, pulling her towards him as they fell into a comfortable pace. When they broke for air, she opened her eyes to see him staring into her own with those brilliant emerald green eyes of his.

“Too much?” Harry asked her and she couldn’t comprehend what he was asking her.

His hand on the side of her neck burned her skin, or she felt like burning, she couldn't tell. Too much? He was asking her. Her brain had shut down, she hadn’t expected him to kiss her like that in the least, not that she didn’t like it, but her mind was still in shock. His playful smile began fading in her silence and began turning into one of worry, when he began pulling away, she panicked, she stood on her toes and practically stuck her lips on his. She felt him smile as they kissed, making her smile with him.

Harry knew pushing her further would not portray the message of him respecting her boundaries, he was taking a huge risk already, while it had paid off, he wasn’t keen on risking it again. When they broke for air, he gave her tender kisses on her neck, behind her ear as an apology for the sudden action.

She was giving him a breathless blushing smile, but in her eyes was uncertainty that he couldn’t quite place. He knew that she had liked it, but she clearly had doubts. With that in mind, he slowly pulled away, etching his playful smile for her to ease into. He carefully intertwined his fingers into hers and paused for her to tighten her grip to acknowledge it.

They left the Owlery together. As they walked, hand in hand, he felt her hand slowly tightening around his whilst blushing at him. As they stood at the entrance of a corridor that led towards the west wing of the castle, Cho said, “I'm going this way. Well, I'll…I'll see you around, Harry.”

“See you.” Cho leaned in and pecked him on his lips and grinned before turning on her heels and hurrying away with a skip in her steps.

* * *

The rest of the day went by in a haze as he, Ron and Hermione got around to their homework after lunch. Ron began on his dream diary, while he and Hermione worked on McGonagall’s Inanimatus Conjurus spell. When Hermione finished the essay on Sprout’s self-fertilising shrubs, he finished Sinistra’s essay on Jupiter’s Moons. As they were strolling to the great hall for dinner, he and Hermione were done with all of their homework, while Ron was trying to convince Hermione to lend him their homework so that he can refer it.

“Forget it, Ron! I’m not letting you see my or Harry’s homework. You’ll have to do this on your own.”

Ron immediately turned to him, “Mate, do something.”

“I can’t. She’s seized control of my bag.” He said bluntly.

Ron looked aggravated yet hopeful, “Can’t you get it?”

“Ron, I have problems of my own. She’s making me knit clothes for the elves, if you can get me out of that, I’ll get you my homework.” He made a deal.

“Why’s she making you knit clothes?” Ron looked positively confused.

“I don’t know,” He said tiredly, “…I somehow wound up agreeing to it.”

Hermione who was listening to them already had a plan in place as Ron asked her to get Harry out of the knitting. “If you take Harry’s place in knitting, I’ll let Harry go.”

Ron looked at him and then at Hermione and then at him, slowly weighed his options, “Sorry mate, I can’t think of anything worse than knitting. I’ll do the homework myself.”

“Ugh…” He groaned.

They took their seats and as they were halfway through dinner, he saw Ginny giving him glances, and when he caught her staring, her glance grew into a glare before turning. He quickly focused on his magic and allowed it to flow through the Inner Eye, opening it. He read her emotions for a few minutes before he turned to Hermione for an explanation.

“What’s wrong with Ginny?” He asked.

Hermione smiled, “She’s upset that you’re dating Cho.”

Ron had something to say despite the pie in his mouth, “Igh eagrhd oi nokked Cho.”

The only word he got out of that was ‘Cho’. Hermione sniffed her nose in disgust, “Swallow first, Ron.”

Ron swallowed but shot Hermione a glare before saying, “I heard you snogged Cho.”

He saw no point in denying it, if Ron knew then Cho most likely told her group of giggling friends, odds were the entire school knew by now. It also explained the looks he kept getting from girls as he made his way to the great hall.

“Yeah, this morning in the Owlery.” He said with a grin.

“Wicked!” Ron was looking impressed.

That’s when he felt it, a hint of something passing through Hermione, he almost missed it before she composed herself. What was this longing? He wondered. Was she jealous? He quickly ruled that out. She wasn’t jealous. The last time he felt this was when he had asked Cho on a date. Then it dawned on him, she was afraid that no one would find her desirable. He decided that he would find a way to help her.

He grinned at them but quickly grew serious as he leaned forward and whispered to them, “Tonight at twelve in the common room. We’re talking to Sirius. I want to know what’s going on.” Both Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement.

Dinner passed; their prefect rounds came to an end, and the common room became quiet as students vacated until they were the only ones left behind. At exactly twelve, Harry opened the Marauder’s Map and he checked to see if anyone was out that might interrupt them.

When they were sure, he opened his Mokeskin pouch to pull out a small mirror the size of his palm and he whispered to it, “Moony, Padfoot and Prongs Junior.” The mirror expanded in size until it was the size of his elbow.

“Hermione, Ron, over here.” He called them and they came to sit beside him against the wall as they stared into the mirror.

They waited a few minutes before Sirius’s face appeared in the mirror, “Hey pup!”

“SSHHHH!!!” All three of them shushed simultaneously.

“Sirius, be quiet, this is us taking an awful risk…” Hermione began.

“You sound like Molly.” Sirius said, “This was why I made the mirrors for, and this is the only way I could come up with answering Harry’s letter without resorting to a code…and codes are breakable.”

At the mention of Harry's letter, Hermione and Ron both turned to stare at him.

“You didn't say you'd written to Sirius!” Hermione said accusingly.

“I forgot.” He shrugged, which was perfectly true; his meeting with Cho in the Owlery had turned into something hot and memorable, he had every right to forget it, “Don't look at me like that, Hermione. I had a snogging session with Cho, I had a good reason to forget. Besides, there was no way anyone would have got the secret information out of it, was there, Sirius?”

“No, it was very good.” Sirius was smiling, “Now what is this about snogging, I hear?”

At that, he grinned, “I’ve been snogging this girl, Cho Chang, it just began today.”

“Is she cuter than that French witch you pulled that day, in Delectat?” Sirius asked enthusiastically.

Hermione and Ron looked at him as if he was mad, his eyes widened since he realised that he hadn’t told either Ron or Hermione about his trip to France this summer.

Ron looked proud, “What have you been doing this summer, mate?” Hermione was frowning sharply, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“I’ll tell you both later.” He said before turning to Sirius, “Yes, she is cute. And Sirius you know I didn't shag her.”

“Then why did I think that you did?” Sirius asked looking genuinely confused.

“Because _you_ shamelessly seduced and groped a French witch, and then shagged her two days straight.” He deadpanned back.

“Oh, yeah…” Sirius grinned at first, but then went into his thoughts as he said distractedly, “I forgot about that.”

“Ugh…”

Sirius then shook his head out of the stupor and continued, “Anyway, we'd better be quick, just in case we're disturbed, now the thing about your scar.”

“What about…?” Ron began, but Hermione interrupted him, “We'll tell you afterwards. Go on, Sirius.”

“Well, I know it can't be fun when it hurts, but we don't think it's anything to worry about. It kept aching all last year, didn't it?”

“Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion.” Harry said ignoring, as usual, when Ron and Hermione winced, “So maybe he’s just been, I dunno, really angry or something lately.”

“Well, now that he's back, and considering your blood connection, it's bound to hurt more often…” Sirius replied thoughtfully.

Harry nodded in understanding, he quickly decided to change the topic, “So, what can you tell us about Umbridge?”

“I know the woman by reputation and I’m sure she's no Death Eater…”

“She's foul enough to be one.” Hermione said darkly, and Ron and he nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Yes, but the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters.” Sirius replied with a wry smile, “I know she's a nasty piece of work, though…you should hear Moony talk about her.”

“Does Remus know her?” He asked quickly, remembering Umbridge's comments about dangerous half-breeds during her first lesson.

“No.” Sirius said, “…but she drafted a bit of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it almost impossible for him to get a job.”

Harry remembered how much shabbier Remus looked before opening the Apothecary and his dislike for Umbridge deepened even further in an instant. And then something else made sense.

“Is that why Remus’s anonymously running the Marauders’ Den?” He asked because it all made sense now. Remus was afraid that if people were to find out that the Apothecary was run by a Lycanthrope, then the Ministry would shut him down. After all the original idea behind opening the Apothecary was to make sure that Remus had the ingredients and resources to make enough Wolfsbane potion for one week before each full moon.

Sirius nodded, “Yes. That’s why Penelope’s running the store, while he’s helping her out with the offshore trade deals and finances remotely.”

Hermione’s brows furrowed, “Penelope?” She had a clue to who it was.

Harry smirked at that, “Penelope Clearwater. It’s been hard for her to find work at the Ministry, so Remus hired her to run the Apothecary, she’s been doing a great job. I’ll tell you the details later.”

Hermione agreed to that, but she did look like she would be making him spill the beans later, she turned to Sirius, “What's Umbridge got against werewolves?” Hermione asked angrily.

“Scared of them, I expect…” Sirius replied smiling at her indignation, “Apparently she loathes part-humans; she campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged last year, too. Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose.”

Ron laughed but Hermione looked upset, while he winced at Sirius’s comment about the elf seeing Hermione’s expression.

“Sirius!” She said reproachfully, “Honestly if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I'm sure he'd respond. After all, you are the only member of his family he's got left, and Professor Dumbledore said…”

“So, what are Umbridge's lessons like?” Sirius interrupted her, “Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?”

“No.” Harry said, ignoring Hermione's affronted look at being cut off in her defence of Kreacher. “She's not letting us use magic at all!”

“All we do is read the stupid textbook.” Ron added.

“Ah, well, that figures.” Sirius didn’t seem surprised, “Our information from inside the Ministry is that Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat.”

“Trained in combat?” Harry repeated incredulously, “What does he think we're doing here, forming some sort of wizard army?”

“That's exactly what he thinks you're doing.” Sirius confirmed to his horror, “Or, rather, that's exactly what he's afraid Dumbledore's doing. He thinks Dumbledore’s forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic.”

There was a pause at this, then Ron laughed, “That's the most stupid thing I've ever heard, including all the stuff that Luna Lovegood comes out with.”

“Say that again, Ron.” He said smoothly, while Ron awkwardly gulped at the glare he gave.

Hermione ignored them both and continued while looking furious, “So we're being prevented from learning Defence Against the Dark Arts because Fudge is scared, we'll use spells against the Ministry?”

“Yep.” Sirius confirmed again, “Fudge thinks Dumbledore will stop at nothing to seize power. He's getting more paranoid about Dumbledore by the day. It's a matter of time before he has Dumbledore arrested on some trumped-up charge.”

Now that made no sense to him, so he asked the only logical question he could ask, “Who’s putting these thoughts in Fudge’s head?”

“Who else? Our dear friend, Lucius Malfoy, obviously.” Sirius frowned as he said it, “His wife, my dear cousin Narcissa had been trying to contact Andromeda, under the guise of finding out why she’s suddenly been removed from the Black Family tree, my guess is Narcissa’s probably trying to trap her. You should talk to her. She’s been looking forward to your call all week.”

Harry only shook his head, “Not now. I’ll call her tomorrow, but tell her to be careful.”

Sirius nodded, “Will do,” then his godfather’s eyes brightened, “How’s the animagus training going?”

He tried to stop Sirius from saying it out loud, but it was too late, now Hermione and Ron were looking at him, clearly, the looks said, ‘You have a lot to explain, mister.’ Sirius looked abashed as he sighed dejectedly.

“It’s going well.” Harry finally said slowly glaring at his godfather, while the said man was trying his hardest to hold back chuckles.

Hermione said in a sickly-sweet voice mimicking Umbridge, “We’ll discuss this, later.”

“Oh nooo…” He groaned.

Hermione quickly asked Sirius, “So you haven't had any news about Hagrid, either?”

“Ah…” Sirius said, “…well, he was supposed to be back by now, no one's sure what's happened to him. But Dumbledore's not worried, so don't you three get yourselves in a state; I'm sure Hagrid's fine.”

“But if he was supposed to be back by now…” Hermione said in a small, anxious voice.

“Madame Maxime was with him, we've been in touch with her and she says they got separated on the journey home, but there's nothing to suggest he's hurt or anything,” Sirius did not convince any of them, they all gave worried glances.

“Listen, kids, don't go asking too many questions about Hagrid.” Sirius said seriously.

“It'll just draw even more attention to the fact that he's not back and I know Dumbledore doesn't want that. Hagrid's tough, he'll be just fine.” They all nodded but none of them was convinced.

Sirius noticed their worries, but said nothing more, “We’ll arrange a meeting at Hogsmeade very soon. I’ll let you know. And pup, don’t send Hedwig, she’s too noticeable. Use one of the school owls if need be. I’ve gotta go now. There’s a lady upstairs who needs my _attention_.” Sirius said with a lecherous grin.

“EWWW!!!” All three of them revolted in disgust, none of them needed that picture in their head.

“See you later, kids!” With that, Sirius was gone and the mirror shrunk back into his palm. Just as soon as he put the mirror back into his Mokeskin pouch, Hermione and Ron stood over him in a cornering way.

“Will it help if I said that I’m no longer upset about you both not contacting me this summer?” Harry asked hopefully.

“NO!” They both said in unison.

Harry let out a resigned sigh; he was in for a long night.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit long this chapter, but there was a lot to cover. And a bit of a Harry/Cho for now, but don't worry it won't last for long. The story is steadily diverging into an AU. Hope you like the changes I’ve made to Harry’s character, the same guy just more experienced thanks to Awakening. And yes, I'm making Harry an animagus, I know stories like that are a dime a dozen, but I want to do it properly, since this is one of the things JKR messed up on.

**Author's Note:**

> So, Sirius has taken matters into his own hands by kidnapping Harry from the Dursleys after giving them a piece of his mind. I hope you like the start. More is to come. And this is not a Dumbledore bashing story, while I don’t particularly like the aged wizard’s schemes, but I do not hate the man.


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